


Shouldn't, the Prequel

by Nevermore_red



Series: Shouldn't [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Lots of Cursing, Prequel, typical Joffrey awfulness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-14 17:24:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4573146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevermore_red/pseuds/Nevermore_red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the requested continuation of my two shot, Should and Shouldn't. It's the prequel and later I'll make a sequel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sansa was 20 and in her second year of college when she met him in person for the first time. She'd always heard of him, of course, seen pictures even. Their fathers had been old war buddies. She'd always thought he was gorgeous, but reality was much better then the photos. He was such a gentleman. Tall, curly golden hair like his mothers, bright green eyes. With his perfectly tailored designer clothes, he was stunning. Once she and her family moved to the big city and she met him in person, they started dating almost immediately. Arya hated him from the get go and Jon always teased her, saying he looked as pretty as a girl. But she hadn't minded. He was sweet and told her all the right things, leaving fresh flowers on her condo stoop often, or a sweet note in the windshield wiper of her car.

She knew his family was powerful, his father the head of a major corporation like hers, his mother coming from old money, but it was still a shock when he brought her to his parents house for the first time. Sansa's family was wealthy and powerful, but they'd always leaned more towards old charm mansions. The Baratheons lived in a sprawling modern home, lots of windows, lots of white, sharp lines, clean edges. It was stunning and new and so enthralling to her at the time. His mother, Cersei, was like something out of a movie. Sansa had never seen a woman so beautiful in real life, or so regal. Sansa was instantly smitten with her, and utterly flattered with her pet name of little dove. Robert was just as nice, although Sansa couldn't fathom why someone as pretty as Cersei would be with a man as overweight and loud as Robert. But Sansa had seen pictures of him when he was younger, and knew he was at one time a handsome man.

It was also on that day that she met Joffrey's body guard, Sandor Clegane. He at one time was Cersei's, but had taken over watching over Joff once he moved out of the house. Sansa hadn't been able to meet the guards eyes when Joffrey introduced them. The way Joff spoke to him surprised Sansa, the way he put the much larger man down and called him dog. Sandor hadn't seemed to mind, had actually seemed bored with it. He was massive, taller even the Robert, but with a body that was free of a single ounce of fat, wide and broad. He was much older then Sansa, or even Joffrey, with long dark hair and a face that was completely ruined on one side from being burnt, not that she'd ever braved asking how. He had at least made the effort of brushing his hair over that side, trying in vain to hide the damage. It didn't really help. And neither did his hard, wild eyes and harsh attitude. It had shocked Sansa that a family like the Lannisters had employed such a terrifying man, but then again, that was probably the point.

After that first day, she'd spent a lot of time at their house, more so even then her own parents. She had been enamored by the sheen and sparkle, the sweet words and the fancy façade. Arya had told her far more then once that she was making a bad decision by being with Joff, but her father had given his blessing, even if it was a little begrudgingly. Robb and Jon stayed out of it, like they always did when it came to her love life. Or lack thereof before Joffrey. It had only taken a few months before Sansa realized something was wrong with him. Sex was...odd, but then again she didn't have anything to compare it to. All she knew was that she felt dirty afterwards, defiled somehow. His violence and manipulation was more subtle, and took Sansa far too long to catch on to. And it only became worse after Robert died of a heart attack and Joff became CEO of Stag Enterprises, moving back into the big house to live with his mother. He fed off the power, and it was as if Cersei rejoiced in her sons sadistic streak. Joffrey never laid a hand on her. No, he considered that too beneath him. So he had his mom's hired guard, Meryn Trant, do it. He'd instructed Sandor to do it on several different occasions, and Sansa had been terrified, but the man never did it. He would just stare off into nothing with a bored expression when Joff told him to hit her. For whatever reason, Joffrey never punished his guard for his lack of obedience but Sansa had the inkling that Joffrey was too scared of him himself. There was even several occasions that Sandor, whom Joffrey and almost everyone else called the Hound or dog, had directed her away from trouble or gave her advice on how to avoid it. He was never kind about it, or gentle, but he was the only one that was showing her even an ounce of kindness, even if she didn't realize it at the time or appreciate it. By the time she realized she needed to get away, she was already too far gone. Cersei had neatly entangled her in a mess, giving her veiled and terrifying threats of what would happen to her and her family if she were to leave Joff, or if anyone found out about her treatment at his hands. She only wanted the power behind the Stark name to merge with that of Lannister and Baratheon. Sansa had even begun to wonder the real reason behind her marriage to Robert, and even his death.

A years worth of humiliation and torment accumulated in a single night. Arya had been on to her that something was wrong. It was becoming increasingly hard to hide the bruises even though Joffrey made certain to leave her face untouched. Even her mother and brothers were voicing concern over her relationship, and her father had outright begged her to leave Joffrey, saying he would help to find her a better match. Sansa had been too scared to leave him, or let her father know the full extent of the brutality. Scared for her families well being as well as her own safety. It was a Saturday, a night Sansa was expected to stay with Joffrey the entire night. Every other night, she was dismissed after he got what he wanted from her, which was tears and his climax. There was always a bunch of people at his house, his entourage he claimed, but that night there was even more then normal. Cersei had gone to bed early but a party was raging in the back yard at the pool. Everyone was drunk, or high on some sort of drug, and all Sansa wanted to do was go back to the condo she shared with Arya and sleep in her own bed. She'd been thankful at first that Joffrey was drunk. It meant he paid less attention to her and more attention to the crowd. She sat on a lounge chair near the pool house, where the music was less mind numbing. Meryn and Sandor stood near where she was, both fully clothed in their trademark suits and shoulder harnesses. Sansa covered her full piece bathing suit with a pretty maxi skirt and a gauzy top. A single look across the pool let her know her moment of peace was up. Joffrey was glaring at her, and even at the distance she could see the evil sneer on his face. As he broke away from the group he was with, Sansa swallowed hard and swore she heard the Hound growl low in his chest several feet away from her.

"Why are you sitting over here all by yourself, princess?" Joff sneered again when he reached her chair. She now hated the pet name she'd once adored, much like the boy himself.

"The music was giving me a headache." she kept her eyes cast downward and her voice soft.

"You think I want my people to think my girl is a stuck up snob?" he snapped, leaning down so he was closer to her face.

"Of course not." She fought the urge to roll her eyes even as fear curled in the pit of her stomach.

"Then get up." he grabbed her by her arm and jerked her up, his thin fingers biting into her flesh.

"Joff, please, you're hurting me." she tried to pull away from his grasp. That made him snap.

"Shut the music off!" he yelled over the din and the DJ instantly stopped the music. Joffrey let her go with a shove, causing her to stumble in her sandals. "My lady would like to show you all the enticements that cause me to put up with such a sniveling bitch." he was so drunk he slurred his words. The crowd all turned to face them, most laughing or yelling encouragement. Sansa flushed deeply, but kept her eyes on the ground beneath her. It wasn't the first time he'd humiliated her in front of his friends, all of whom seemed to enjoy it.

"Joffrey, please." she said quietly.

"Shut your mouth." he spun back to her, then stumbled slightly. "Meryn, help her out of her clothes." Before she had a chance to say anything, or even prepare herself, Meryn was behind her, his hands ripping the thin material of her shirt down the back before jerking it off and tossing it to the ground. Tears welled up, but she managed to blink them away. Her skirt was quickly jerked to her ankles and she didn't bother stepping out of the material.

"Yes, see." Joffrey sighed, coming closer to her to run a finger across her collar bone, trailing it around her shoulder and back as he circled her. Once he was back in front of her, he took a few steps away from her. "The rest of it, Trant." he said with a wave of his hand. Shock surged through her and she snapped her head up to look at him. There was no way he'd actually meant that, but then her halter strap snapped. She quickly grabbed the material before it fell from her chest. People in the crowd were now cheering, wolf whistles and cat calls ringing through the air. Her suits back didn't start until just above her lower back and she felt hands dig into the material there. With a cry, she struggled to get away from him, which only made Joffrey laugh harder. Her efforts caused her feet to tangle up in her skirt and she fell to her knees, giving Meryn the leverage he needed to rip the material. She felt the warm night air on her bare bottom a second before she sat back on her heels, trying to keep herself covered.

"Stand up, Sansa love, let them see what you've got." Joffrey cheered and she felt Meryn's hand wrap around her arm.

"No!" she screamed. "Joffrey, please, stop this!"

"Enough!" The voice that called out rose above all the others, the sound like steal scraping stone. Meryn's grip eased, but didn't leave her. Joffrey gaped to the side of her where Sandor must have been. Sansa didn't dare look at him. Her whole body trembled and shook, tears streaming down her cheeks unheeded. In the tense silence that followed, Sansa tried to wrap her mind around what was happening, what would happen. Then Joffrey started laughing.

"You're right, dog." he agreed. "Best to keep the goodies all to myself." Relief made her want to cry as Meryn released her arm.

"Take her up to my room." he said in way of dismissal before turning back to his party. "DJ, music!" And just as fast as it all started, everyone forgot about her and her public humiliation. She flinched when a hand wrapped around her arm, but when she looked up it was Sandor's destroyed face instead of Trant's. The relief she felt at seeing him was almost comical.

"Lets go, little bird." he dropped his suit jacket over her shoulders, then respectfully looked at the pool water as she stood and pulled her skirt back up, preserving her dignity, or what little of it remained. She grabbed the opening of the jacket and wrapped it tight around herself as she went around the pool and into the house. The Hound followed her in silence, the only noise his heavy steps on the shiny white floors. When they reached Joffrey's bedroom door, she turned to him, meeting his gaze in the dark hall, willing herself not to look away like she normally did.

"Thank you, for stopping him."

"You should leave." he surprised her by saying it. "You know damned well it's only going to get worse. He'll be pissed about that out there. My stopping him." he pointed back down the hall without looking away from her. "And he'll take it out on your hide. Or have fucking Trant do it." Sansa flinched. He'd never so openly spoken about Joffrey's cruelty.

"I cant."

"You can, damn it!" he nearly shouted, his voice just a peg above a growl. "Go, now. You're father can protect you."

"No." she'd thought about that, but Cersei would make sure she would see the downfall of the Starks if that happened. She'd thought she was protecting him by staying. Sandor scoffed, shaking his head.

"You are a very stupid little bird, you know that?"

"Thank you for the jacket." she said, then slipped into Joffrey's room. Changing into the pajamas she kept there, she brushed her teeth and laid down. If she'd known what was going to happen later, she would have heeded Sandor's advice and fled. She wasn't sure how long she'd been asleep when the door flew open, but was surprised when not only Joffrey entered the room, but two of his friends and Trant. It all happened quickly after that. She barely even had time to be scared before it was over. But within a few moments, the two friends and Trant had her hands bound to each of the posts on the head board, and her legs spread, ankles tied to each post at the foot. Joffrey sat in an armchair he'd pulled up to the side of the bed so he could watch with a sick little grin on his face and his swim trunks tented. Trant moved to the foot of the bed, arms crossed and an expectant look on his face as the two friends tore her pajama top open. Sansa screamed and yelled, thrashed on the silk sheets in vain as the pants were pulled down to her ankles, leaving her bare except for her panties and the lace bando that Joffrey insisted she wear during sex. At first she didn't hear anything other then her own screaming, the blood rushing in her ears, but in her haze of panic, she seen Trant drop, then the man that was now between her legs was ripped off the bed, thrown bodily into the wall, knocking pictures off and leaving a man sized hole. Both Joff and the other man moved at once, but Sandor grabbed Joffrey by the throat as he slammed his fist into the other mans face with a sickening crunch. When he pulled his gun out of his holster, Sansa thought he was going to kill him. Instead he brought the butt of the gun down on Joffrey's temple, and the boy crumbled. Sansa watched him with tear blurred eyes, sobs racking her body, as he released her hands and feet.

"Come on now, little bird." he lifted her off the bed like a small child. "Keep your mouth shut and we may get out of this alive." So she had, and they did. He'd called her father when they left, he and Robb and Jon were all waiting up for them when they arrived at her parents house. It had taken both Ned and Sandor to keep Robb and Jon from leaving right then and going and killing Joff. Not that her father hadn't wanted to kill him, he was just smart enough to know better. So they'd gone about it the right way, the legal way, and after a few months, and a few DNA tests, later the Lannister's seen a major downfall. Cersei was found guilty of embezzlement and fraud, Meryn Trant of the murder of Robert Baratheon, and Joffrey was put in prison for assault and battery as well as embezzlement and fraud. Apparently Robert had a bastard son, a gun smith that Sandor knew, a boy named Gendry who was now the heir of the Baratheon fortune. To say that Joffrey's grandfather, Tywin, was livid was an understatement. Her father wanted extra security for the family because of it and after Sansa told him of how the Hound had helped her on all the different occasions, he offered the job to him.

And so started the turning point of how the little bird seen the Hound.


	2. Chapter 2

Working for the Starks instead of the Lannisters had both pros and cons. The biggest con being the pay cut he had to take. Wealthy the Starks may be, but not very many families met the income of a Lannister. Another was the sheer boredom of it. Ned wasn't nearly as...entertaining as Joffrey and his mother had been with all their raging parties and drama. And the man they called The Wolf was level headed and self possessed, which meant Sandor didn't have to get him out of trouble often, unlike Joffrey with his big fucking mouth and total lack of courage. But there were perks. The drama that came with the Lannister's wasn't something he actively enjoyed, or the mass amount of people that were always around. The Starks house was also more to Sandor's liking. It actually looked like people lived in it, with comfortable couches and chairs instead of things a man of his height practically had to sit on the floor to get in. The money was decent, even if it was less then what he'd been getting. The benefit of free health and a retirement plan sort of made up for it. And Ned liked to drive himself places, which meant Sandor could get rid of the god awful Jaguar Cersei and insisted he buy to drive her and her son around in and get the blacked out Indian Dark Horse bike he'd been wanting.

And the biggest pro, the thing that made it so damn good, was it's lack of Joffrey fucking Baratheon. That boy was nothing but an annoying, sadistic cunt.

But, then there was Sansa Stark. Sandor wasnt sure yet if she was a pro or a con. It differed from day to day. She frustrated the hell out of him with her cold courtisies and her inability to even look him in the face, not that many people did. He wasnt entirely certain why it bothered him more coming from her. In the beginning of her being with Joffrey her stary eyed outlook on everything had annoyed him, but the illusion was quickly shattered. Which ended up being hard to watch. Sure, the world was awful and it was better to be aware of it then ignore the facts, but it was still hard to watch the vibrant light slowly leave her blue eyes. But there was more about her that got to him. She was stunning, all long limbs and elegance with a face that screamed innocence and her hair...Gods, hair had never turned him on before, but apparently he had a thing for redheads.

And that was the issue. Sansa Stark turned him on and that pissed him off. There was no fucking way he'd ever be able to have her. She was at least fifteen years younger then him, came from one of the most powerful families in the country, was heiress to a multi billion dollar company, which all meant she was so bloody far out of his class that it was laughable. Sandor came from shit, Clegane meant nothing to anyone except the FBI, but that was because of his brothers murderous noteriety. Maybe in the military world, in the band of brothers that was the Marines his name had meant something at one time but he'd been honorably discharged years ago.

A scarred old war dog would never be on the same level as the graceful and powerful wolf, or a sweet and innocent little bird.

So he did his best to frighten her, which was fairly easy in the beginning. All he had to do was look at her. But as the days and months passed during his employment with her father, she seemed to adjust to him and he had to try harder. He purposfully used crude language around her, was even more crass and blunt then normal and almost enjoyed seeing her balk and blush. But even that was losing it's effectivness. Occasionally he would look at her and she would look right back at him, a flicker of something in her blue eyes that he couldnt quite place, but then she'd quickly look away. There were even times that he would glance at her and find her already watching him. She'd flush prettily before hurrying to look away. And she'd even started to laugh at his vulgerness. Her laugh, her smile, made him feel incredibly uneasy so he tried to just stay away from her, avoided talking to her unless it was completely necessary.

He was never more relieved then he was when she went back to school. It wasnt that she lived with her parents, but ever since the attack, she'd spent more and more time with them. And the Starks were a close family, having all of their children over for dinner at least once a week, if not more. But with her back at school, she was gone even more often. And that was a relief, not having to see her as much.

"You are brooding harder then normal." Sandor snapped his head up to see Bran wheel himself into the solar outside Ned's office. Sandor liked the boy. He was young, barely into his teens, but he seemed so much older for some reason. Grudgingly, Sandor had come to respect him. Even felt like they maybe shared something, seeing as Bran had his legs ripped away from him around the same age Sandor had been when his face was burnt off.

"Just lost in thought." he straightened his posture as he stood next to the office door. Even though the boy was young enough to be his own son, Sandor had always felt the urge to mind his manners around him.

"Thoughts of what?" Sandor narrowed his eyes at the boy, clenching his jaw. Respect or not, he wasnt going to tell anyone about the thoughts that were going through his head. Or the girl he couldnt seem to get out of them. Bran just chuckled.

"Fine. Keep your secrets, Mr. Clegane. Just try not to scowl too hard." he pushed the lever on the armrest of his chair that propelled him forward, bringing him closer to the door. "Is father busy?"

"Has he ever been too busy for you?" Sandor asked bitterly. Ned's ability to be such a good man, a good father, and a good buisnessmen was just a daily reminder the failure his own father had been. Once he let Bran into the office and closed the door, he went back to scowling at nothing. So Bran had been right. He had been in a partiularly foul mood as of late, his anger and bitterness, things that were just an ingrained part of him, were worse then usual. He refused to believe that had anything to do with not having seen Sansa in almost a month.

The theory, or self delusion, was shot to shit that evening when she'd shown up at the house. Sandor was with Ned in the den, going over the security plans for his public appearance that was coming up soon, when she walked in.

"Sansa, dear." Ned stood up as soon as he seen his daughter. Sandor followed the motion a little slower. He could actually feel the tension leaving him when he looked at her. Hair swept up in a messy bun on top of her head, casual jeans that would probably cost him a whole months salary, and a pretty purple sweater, she looked exactly like the rich college girl she was.

"Daddy." she smiled at Ned and accepted his hug, although Sandor thought she looked tired, her smile strained and her eyes red with dark circles around them. Ned released her and motioned to the coffee table that they'd been bent over just a moment ago.

"Clegane and I were just going over some work." he explained. "You're mother is upstairs getting ready for dinner. You are staying for dinner, aren't you?"

"Of course." she glanced over at Sandor and smiled again. "Mr. Clegane." she nodded her head in greeting.

"Ms. Stark." he returned the gesture without the smile.

"Here, darling, sit with Clegane a moment. I'll let your mother know you're here and try and find your brothers."

"I seen Rickon outside with Shaggy when I came in." she told him.

"And I seen Bran in the study before I came here." Sandor added.

"Good. Sandor, fill Sansa in on the security plans for this weekends Christmas Formal."

"Yes, sir." Once Ned was gone, Sansa let out a long breath and dropped into the armchair he'd just been sitting in.

"How is work going?" She asked, leaning forward to look at the papers on the table, which were layouts from the buildings and surrounding area that the formal would be held in, as well as lists of people that would be there. Sandor shifted to the side and took the seat at the end of the sofa next to her chair that Ned had been sitting in.

"It's work." he leaned back, one arm stretched out on the back of the sofa, the other on the arm rest.

"Daddy seems to be happy with your work."

"Not much to it." he shrugged, watching her closely. "Your father doesnt do much to bring attention to himself. Makes my job pretty fucking simple."

"This weekend seems like it will being a lot of attention to him." she motioned to the papers.

"Suppose so." One of the papers caught her eye and she leaned forward and picked it up slowly, her face going even more pale then normal.

"Tywin Lannister and his sons will be there?" her voice, although she spoke softly, sounded panicked. Wide blue eyes flashed up to his and he felt his gut clench when he seen the fear in them.

"That's what your dad wanted me to talk with you about." She didnt say anything, just nodded. Sandor took a breath before sitting up. "Your fathers security team will be at the formal, more than enough men to watch out for your parents and all your siblings, but..."

"But?" she gasped. "There's a but!" Sandor almost grinned at her discomposure. She wasnt often discomposed.

"But he wants a single guard with you at all times while you're there." he went on.

"Maybe I just shouldnt go then."

"Of course you're fucking going. All of Eddard Starks children are expected to be there. Your dad damn well cant afford to look weak or afraid by leaving you behind." Sansa was quiet for a while, chewing her bottom lip while she mulled it over. The Christmas Formal was a huge event for the rich and powerful. Not coming, or coming without Sansa after the uproar half a year ago, would look poorly on the Stark family.

"And I'll have my own personal guard?"

"Yes." he nodded.

"Who will it be?" she asked. "Jory?"

"No, Jory will be expected to be seen at your fathers side since he's head of security."

"Then why are you here going over the security plans instead of him?"

"Because I'll be the one that's guarding you." He watched her closely, waiting to see her reaction. Her eyes closed for a second as she took a deep breath, and when they opened again she seemed calmer. He tried not to enjoy that so much. He'd balked when Ned first brought it up to him, but he did understand. After working for the Lannisters for several years, knowing them his entire life, he was in a prime position to spot them and the men that worked for them and he knew their ways and Ned was smart enough to see that. Besides, he'd very much enjoy ripping a fucking Lannister in two for even looking at Sansa.

"Do you think...surely Tywin wouldn't do anything in such a public place?"

"I'm sure he wont." he assured her. "Tywin isn't a stupid man." he shifted further to the end of the sofa and titled his head to catch her gaze. Calmer she may be, but there was still fear in her eyes.

"You'll be safe with me, little bird." he resisted the urge to reach out and touch her. "They're all afraid of me. No one will hurt you again, or I'll kill them." Her eyes widened at his words for a brief moment, but he could see the fear leak out of her eyes as she let out a content sigh.

"Thank you, Mr. Clegane." she pushed up from the chair to stand. He didnt follow her, leaning back in his seat instead so he could see her better.

"No thanks needed, girl." he narrowed his eyes at her. "Just doing what I'm paid to do." She faltered slightly, her eyes dropping away from his face.

"Yes, of course." she forced a polite smile without looking at him and then left. With a low groan, he leaned forward and gathered up all the paperwork. Once he had everything, he went back to the security office that he shared with the other men on the security team near Ned's office. The formal was in five days. Five days and he would get to spend the entire evening with Sansa, with an excuse to watch her closely.

Gods, he didnt know whether to shout in joy or quit his job.


	3. Chapter 3

To say that Sansa was nervous about the upcoming formal was an understatement. Large crowds, public appearances, news reporters, none of that stuff made her nervous. She didn't love it, but she really didn't mind it either. Knowing there would be Lannister's there though, even if it wasn't Joff or Cersei, was enough to make her tremble.

She'd never met Joffrey's uncle Tyrion, but she'd heard enough to know he was the scurge of the family that everyone hated. Uncle Jaime she'd met, and had actually sort of liked him. He was quick witted, gorgeous, and over all pretty nice but she knew all too well now that a pretty face often hid the most wicked souls. Besides, he'd never once put up any form of protest at her treatment. Tywin scared her the most. Heck, he'd even scared Cersei and that was enough for her. Add to it that he was incredibly pissed at the huge hit his company had taken because of her and that made her terrified to be in the same place as him. They'd lost the prospect of merging with the Starks and in the process lost the partnership with the Baratheons.

But Sandor had told her that she had no reason to be afraid since he would be with her. He was right, everyone was scared of him. And she actually believed him, whole heartedly, that he would kill anyone that posed a threat to her. Maybe that should have frightened her. She knew he was a dark soul, filled with anger and rage. She could see it, just below the surface, boiling in the depths of his eyes. It used to frighten her, but not so much anymore. He seemed to have control over it, wielded only when needed and never at her. Oddly enough, she trusted him and knowing he was the one that would be with her this weekend made her feel so much more at ease.

He for dang sure kept her on her toes. One second he would look at her and Sansa swore he was seeing right inside her, seeing her stripped bare. It gave her an odd thrill when he looked at her like that. But then the next second he would go out of his way to stay away from her, to avoid her or scowl angrily at her. That really shouldn't have bothered her as much as it did.

With the formal only two days away, she and Arya had been instructed to be at the house for dinner to go over the final details. Once she finished with classes, she made her way to the house, beating everyone else there. Arya was always late to everything, so no surprise there, and it was still pretty early for Robb or Jon yet. Rickon was in the backyard playing with Osha, his nanny, and his dog Shaggy and Bran was in the study reading. With her father still at work and her mother out on last minute errands, Sansa had the whole mansion to herself. She sat on the back patio for a while watching Rickon play fetch with his dog, but eventually wondered back inside. Her shoulders were tense from being bent over her laptop or notebook and her fingers itched for ivory.

Wondering into the formal living room, where the grand piano sat in a large alcove of windows, she smiled. The condo she and Arya shared was much too small for a piano and she loved playing, missed it. Settleing onto the cushioned bench, she pushed open the lid and rubbed her hands together before trailing her fingers over the keys.

Mother was a wonderful pianist. Sansa could vividly remember sitting at this exact piano at their old home when she was just a little girl and watching her moms long, elegant fingers dance effortlessly over the keys. She'd taught Sansa how to play. Taking a small breath, she launched into the the first song she'd learned. Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. Like always, the classic music seeped into her, relaxed her like nothing else could, and her eyes drifted shut while she gently swayed with the cords. She finished the piece, then relaxed her fingers for a second before starting another one. Classical pieces were ones she'd learned from her mother and she loved them, but as she got older and started wanting to impress her friends, she'd learned modern songs. Her favorite at the moment was Say Something by A Great Big World. Hearing it, even when she played it, gave her goose bumps. Closing her eyes, she lost herself in the song again, singing along as she played, though not loudly.

As her fingers played the last notes, a figure pushing off the entryway to the side of her caught her attention, startling her. Jumping a little, she spun to the side to find Sandor walking around the sofa, an odd expression on his face. Amusement maybe?

"Mr. Clegane." Sansa flushed, bringing a hand up to her throat, trying to still her rapid pulse. "You startled me."

"Didn't know you were a song bird." His mouth twitched slightly, like he was fighting a grin.

"Mother taught me." she explained. "She tried to teach all of us. Jon and Arya refused. Robb, bless him, inherited our fathers lack of musical abilities and Rickon much prefers his drum set." Sansa ran her fingers of the ivory again before looking up at Sandor. "It's just Bran and I that play now."

"You play good." he looked away from her and stared at the keys. "Sing good, too." Sansa blushed again, fighting a smile. It was odd that a simple compliment warmed her so, but Sandor didn't do compliments. He just stated facts. That made it even more special that he'd said it.

"Do you play?" she asked when he didn't look away from the piano for a long while. That brought a short snort from him as he looked back at her.

"No." he held up both hands, wiggling his finger a bit. "Big clumsy fingers." Sansa looked at his hands. He was right about one thing. His hands were big, massive like the rest of him, the backs marred with a few scars, the palms rough with callouses. His fingers were long, thick, tapered at the ends with nails cut short. The pinky finger on his left hand bent at an odd angle, like he'd broken it before and it hadn't been set right after. But they didn't look clumsy. Nothing about him looked clumsy. They looked strong and powerful. Capable of both deadly force and infinite pleasure.

Sansa balked, then blushed so hard she felt it at the tips of her ears and spreading across her chest. She had no idea where that thought came from. She had no idea if it were true, at least the pleasure part. But somehow, she knew it was. Tearing her eyes away from his hands, she met his gaze. His normally hard, slightly wild, eyes were staring at her with a heat that matched the one that turned her skin red.

"I, uh, I should go call Arya." she groaned inwardly when her voice sounded breathy even to her own ears as she stood up. "She'll be late if I don't keep on her." He surprised her by taking another step closer, which put him closer then he normally stood. She lifted her chin to look up at him as he leaned forward slightly. Her heart skipped a few beats, then went into a rapid pace to make up for them, making it harder for her to breath. The quick rising and falling of her chest drew his attention, which lingered, then his eyes slid back to hers.

"What about you, little bird?" his voice, normally raspy and sharp, the sound something like metal scraping stone, was deeper then normal. "Will I need to be on you?" Sansa swayed back with her sudden light head, gaping at him.

"Pardon me?" Now a grin did pull up the unburnt corner of his mouth and he leaned back, taking a step away from her, which allowed her to breath right.

"Do you tend to run late?" he asked, back to his normal composure. "Will I need to keep on you this weekend to be places on time?"

"Oh." the word came out like air bursting from a balloon. "No. I'm perpetually on time." For some reason, that caused him to huff out a short sound that she took to be a laugh of sorts.

"Of course you are." Feeling too off kilter, and a little too aware of the man before her, Sansa gave him a polite smile.

"Excuse me, Mr. Clegane." she moved around him to head to the kitchen where her phone was. He stepped to the side and gave her a short nod as a way of parting.

"Ms. Stark."

Once she got into the kitchen she wet a paper towel and dabbed it against her hot cheeks and neck. Since Joffrey, which had been almost six months ago, she hadn't been interested in, or even noticed, other boys. Not once. But she'd noticed Sandor today, and judging by her bodies nearly combustible reaction to him, she was interested.

Oh, Sandor Clegane wasn't a boy. No, he was a man, one more masculine and raw then any she'd ever met before. That was something she'd never been attracted to before. She'd always been interested in sweet romance and gentle seductions. Boys with a kind smile and a pretty face, with money and a sense of fashion. Not like Sandor at all. Now, though, she gave a deep sigh and squeezed her eyes shut a moment.

She was most definitely interested in him. And that wasn't good.

****************************

Jory had sent him back to the house before Ned finished up at the office. All the Starks would be at the house tonight, so the gate security needed to be ready. After talking with the gate guard at the front of the drive, Sandor made his way into the house. Ned wanted a drawn up plan for Sansa's security during the formal. He was making his way down the hall when he heard the music drifting from the main living room. He'd seen Sansa's little red Fiat outside and he couldn't help but follow the noise, wondering if it was her listening to some music. He drew up short in the rooms entryway when he seen her.

She was sitting at the grand piano across the room, her fingers drifting effortlessly over the keys while her body swayed slightly to the classical piece she played. He could see her profile from where he stood, and he had the odd reaction of getting turned on by her concentrated expression.

Concentrated, completely enraptured, her lips parted slightly. He could easily picture that expression on her face doing something entirely different. Something that included far less clothing and him deep inside of her.

Fuck.

Whatever she was playing ended and her eyes fluttered open as she looked down at her hands for a second before flying off into another song. This one he'd heard before, not that it was his type of music, but he also didn't live in a hole. He didn't know what it was called or who sang it, but then Sansa was singing and he didn't really care. Her voice was good, damn good. He felt a little odd, watching her so intently in such a candid moment. She had no idea he watched, and he considered for a second making his presence known or slinking out before she noticed him. But he didn't. He liked watching her, and found that doing so turned him on even more. Too much, in fact. The jeans he wore were getting awfully uncomfortable. When she finished the song, he made quick work of readjusting his hard on, which drew her attention to him. He quickly made it look like he was just striding across the room.

Her reaction when he'd held up his hands surprised him. He may not have been a ladies man, but he damn sure knew what sexual tension felt like and heated interest looked like. Finding both those things with Sansa Stark wasn't the surprising part. Oh, he'd been sexually tense around her from the second he laid eyes on her, and he damn sure looked at her with heated interest more then once. Not that she'd noticed, of course. But to see it reflected back at him had him forgetting his place.

Damn it, but he'd almost reached out and touched her cheek when he'd leaned in close. Almost closed the distance and placed his mouth of her slightly parted lips.

And that was why he needed to keep his distance from Sansa, and he did for the rest of the evening. But when the evening of the formal came, there wasn't a choice. It was his job to stay as close as possible to her.

That morning he'd driven his bike over to the Stark mansion for a final security debriefing with Jory and the rest of the team that would be coming tonight. Four guards in total. Jory would take care of Mr. and Mrs. Stark, Sandor would exclusively watch Sansa, and the other two guards would take on the other five Stark children. Robb and Jon were old enough, and both well trained enough, that there was little to worry about with them, so two guards would be more then enough. Plus, Sandor had a feeling Arya Stark was more then capable of taking care of herself. He'd seen her playing around with her older brothers, and both of them had at one point or another ended up on their asses.

After debriefing it was time to get dressed. Being security meant they weren't expected to be in full on tuxes or tails, but suit and ties were required. Sandor hated wearing suits. He'd been required to wear on on a daily basis with the Lannisters and it had been a huge bonus that Ned didn't have the same outlook. Jory was his main bodyguard, so it was him that went to all the business events and therefor him that had to dress business like. It was just one night though, and the one suit he'd kept from his time with the Lannisters would work.

He hadn't been allowed a Men's Warehouse suit. No, Armani was a must. And like the damn Jaguar car, he'd been expected to pay for it himself. Jaime had come with him to ensure he picked out the appropriate thing and had it tailored right. The old tailor had nearly fainted when taking his measurements. The damn thing seemed too tight in Sandor's opinion. He personally didn't like the latest trend of the suit pants being so form fitted, but he'd done as instructed like the good dog he was. The suit jacket was so well tailored that he didn't think he'd be able to hide his shoulder harness and Rugar under it, but Jaime had been right in his insistence that nothing would be visible. As to be uniform and discourage any individuality, black ties were all that was allowed.

Once dressed, feeling like a polar bear shoved into a penguin suit, he got the keys to the Lexus he would take to pick up both Stark girls, and headed out. He tried to ignore the anxious feeling in his stomach, or the fact that his palms were sweaty. He wondered how Sansa would look in a formal dress. Would it be low cut? Figure hugging? Would she maybe go for one of those backless things that were in style right now? He could almost picture it, her long sleek spine left bare. Open for his hand as he guided her through crowds.

Or open to her dance partners hand.

His fingers almost snapped the steering wheel in two at that thought. No, he didn't care. Of course she would dance with other people there. Not him. He didn't dance. Didn't know how. Damn well didn't care to know how. And even if he did, a security guard didn't dance with his charge.

No, he didn't give a shit if she danced with the pretty rich boys. Even if he did feel like a fucking teen on his way to pick up his buggering prom date.

Yeah, he really needed to get his shit together.


	4. Chapter 4

Sansa had spent months looking for a dress. She went back and forth between her want to look classy and to look stunning. The day she found the Vera Wang, she knew she had to have it. It was a deep silver that was almost grey, with just a little shimmer to it. Form fitting to mid thigh then it relaxed just a little. The bodice was lace, with sheer lace long sleeves and a plunging neckline that ended just below her sternum. Her slight bust let her go without a bra. Pairing it with a simple silver bracelet, she forwent a necklace, not wanting to detract from the effect of the neckline. Braiding her hair along one side, she twisted it in a braided knot at the base of her skull, a silver hair clip that her mother gave her adorning it. Revealing neckline aside, it was a very classy dress and even Arya told her she looked pretty. Arya did, too. She always did, in a effortless and exotic way that sometimes Sansa envied her for. She looked so good and at ease in a pair of baggy sweats and Converses, but she looked downright stunning dressed up. She wore a simple sleeveless black dress, little makeup, and her chocolate brown hair down in waves.

Despite feeling confident and pretty, Sansa was nervous. So nervous in fact, that she was trembling. As she stood at the kitchen island and sipped a glass of water, the liquid vibrated in the glass. A loud knock on her front door made her jump.

"Calm down." she told herself, smoothing a hand over the waist of her dress. With a glance at the clock, she figured it must be Sandor. Which didn't really help her nerves at all. Going to the front door, she glanced up the stairs. Arya was still up there. Smoothing her dress one last time, she opened the door. When she seen him, she felt her heart skip a beat and the fear induced belly ache she had tightened into another ache for an entirely different reason.

She'd seen him in his suit before, of course, but had never once really looked at him in it. It hugged each and every inch of his muscular frame perfectly, the rich, silky looking Armani fabric simply looked like it had been poured over him. He didn't look entirely comfortable in it, of course, and his jacket wasn't buttoned like it should be, his tie a little crooked, but he still looked good. Far too good actually.

With a blush of embarassment, she realized she'd been staring at him for a moment too long without saying anything. Looking up at him to say something, she realized her embarassment was ill placed. He hadn't noticed her lack of response to him, because he wasn't really paying attention enough to even know if she'd spoken. His eyes roamed openly over her figure, catching and lingering on the expanse of flesh revealed by her neckline. She seen his throat muscles work like he swallowed hard, his hands shoving into the front pockets of his pants. Sansa grinned, feeling oddly empowered by his reaction to her.

"Good evening, Mr. Clegane." she drew his attention to her face, glad that he'd been too lost in his appraisal of her to notice hers of him. He'd likely tease her harshly about it. His eyes had that intense look in them again, like he was seeing right inside of her. It quickly morphed into his brutal hardness and he scowled at her.

"Ready?" She didn't falter at his harshness, because she was now aware that he was using it to hide his reaction to her.

"I am." she smiled. "But, unfortunatly Arya is not." she stepped to the side and motioned him inside. He hesitated only a second before stepping inside.

"I'll run up and hurry her along." she closed the door. "Have a seat and I'll be right back." She turned and headed up the stairs, aware of his eyes on her as she assended them. It gave her a rush thinking he was watching her move and she tried to walk normally and hope to hell she didnt trip. After rushing Arya along, and getting yelled at in the process, she went back down stairs, finding Sandor still waiting at the front door, hands still shoved in his suit pants.

"She's almost done."

"You have my cell number in your phone?" his unexpected question had her pausing for a moment.

"Yes."

"Good. If for some reason you get seperated from me, you call that number."

"Of course." she nodded. He scowled again and took a step closer to her, bending down so he was in her face.

"You go nowhere without me tonight. You dont make a single fucking move without me knowing about it. If you need to go to the bathroom, tell me." His voice was as harsh as his eyes at the moment. "And if I tell you to do something, bloody do it, no questions asked. Got it?"

"Jeeze, you're an ass." Arya's voice pulled her attention away from Sandor as she joined them on the bottom landing.

"Arya!" she scolded her sister who just rolled her eyes.

"You ready yet?" Sandor barked.

"Waiting on you." Arya smiled sweetly at him and Sansa let out a breath of exasperation. Sandor growled low, but just turned and yanked the door open. He didn't wait for them as they gathered their jackets and locked up, but he was waiting with the back passanger door open at her families Lexus.

"Oh, look." Arya sneered when they reached him. "The dog actually has manners." Sansa opened her mouth to scold Arya for her rudeness. She hated when people called him that.

"And the little wolf bitch is going to be hoofing it if she doesn't get her little ass in the car and shut her mouth." Sandor said before she could get a word out. Arya huffed, but slid into the backseat. Sansa shot him a dissaproving look before she followed Arya in.

The drive to the formal was made in silence. It was held at the expo center in the middle of the city. Cars and people were everwhere in the fading sunlight, but Sandor manuvored the car to the front doors easily enough. A perk of driving a Stark car. A valet opened the door for her and Arya while Sandor got out himself, tossing the keys to the valet. Sansa waited on the sidewalk for him, half expecting him to offer her his arm, but he didn't. Just stared at her for a long second before motioning for her to go on. Sansa laughed inwardly at herself. Sandor was so far from a gentlemen it was comical.

After checking their coats, they were led by an usher to her parents table in the first ring around the dance floor. Another perk of being a Stark. Everyone was already present, Jory standing behind her father, two other guards behind her sibblings. Surprising her, Sandor pulled out the chair next to her father for her. When they'd gone over security precautions, it was settled that she would sit between her father and Robb. With Sandor behind her, she was protected from behind and both sides. After dinner was served and eaten, it was time to make all the appropriate visitations. Sansa, not being next in line to take over the company, had a shorter and less important list of people. Robb and Jon, on the other hand, this was far more about buisness then socialization.

First on her list was the Tyrell's.

"Sansa!" Margaery greeted her when she approached her table.

"Marg." Sansa greeted her with less enthusiasm. After a hug and a quick peck on the cheek, Margaery held her at arms length by her shoulders, taking in her dress. "Good grief, girl." She let out a playful whistle.

"You look sexy!" Sansa blushed and nudged Marg's shoulder.

"Hush." Margaery was quite possibly the most beautiful girl Sansa had ever seen. And she knew it too. She revelled in her own sexual power, in her looks and femininity. Men all but kissed the ground she walked on. Marg winked at Sansa and hooked an arm through one of hers, leading her to where her brothers Willas and Loras stood near their grandmother.

"Willas, Loras." Margaery interrupted whatever they'd been speaking of. "Say hello to Sansa." Both men greeted her with handshakes and gentlemenly hellos.

"Look at her, Willas." Marg turned to stand next to her older brother, a conspiritoral grin on her face. "Isn't she a vision?" Like all the Tyrells, Willas was very good looking, even in spite of his badly injured leg. You almost couldnt tell from the grace he held himself with that he was an amputee. He gave her a sweet smile after letting his gaze quickly take in her figure.

"Simply stunning." he answered. Behind her, she barely heard a low rumble. Out of the corner of her eye, she seen Sandor shift slightly closer, bringing about Willas' attention. His eyes went wide breifly before flicking back to her.

"It was good seeing you, Sansa." he picked up her hand and dropped a chaste kiss to her knuckles. "I should make my rounds."

"Of course." she smiled at him. "It was good seeing you as well." With a quick nod, Willas walked off with a barely discernable limp.

"He's such a slow worker." Margaery laughed when he was gone. "Dont worry, though. I'll make sure he saves a dance for you."

"Marg, please." Sansa blushed. "You dont have to do that."

"Oh, come now." Marg waved her off. "Legless or not, Willas is a wonderful dancer. He may not be able to Salsa like he once was able, but he can still spin you around the floor." Sansa simply smiled rather then say anything. Sure, Willas was beautiful and such a gentleman. He was of the sort of family her parents had always intended her to marry into, rich and powerful. But, even though she used to have a crush on Loras, before he came out of course, neither Tyrell boy held any interest for her now.

She stood and talked with Margaery for a while longer before moving about the other families, speaking with the daughters, girls she'd grown up around and considered friends in a very loose sense of the word, smiling at the sons when it was required. She said all the right things, what was expected. For the first time in a long time, she felt like the little bird Sandor had always mocked her for being. Chirping all her niceities, twittering and preening like she'd been trained. By the time she'd turned back towards her table, she was tired and bored. Not paying attention, Sandor's hand clasping her shoulder rather hard startled her.

"Ouch." she glared up at him, but he wasnt looking at her. Jaw set, eyes blazing with so much anger and killing rage, she followed his eyeline and her blood ran cold. Standing close to her families table, which was still empty with the others spread around the gathering, was a familiar tall figure. Tywin Lannister. Even in his late fifties, he scared her. With his bald head, thick whiskers, and sharp green eyes, he stared right back at her with an air of calculated rage. She couldn't surpress that shudder that ran down her spine.

"Calm yourself." Sandor's voice came from behind her. "Don't let him see your fear. He feeds off of it." Taking a fortifying breath, Sansa straightened herself and lifted her chin. She was a Stark. A wolf. She would not cower. With that thought, and the solid strength of Sandor at her back, she strode across the room to where Tywin stood with every single air of superiority she'd been raised with.

"Mr. Lannister." she greeted him with a smile before he could speak to her. "What a pleasent evening." His eyes narrowed as he took her in, then flicked to Sandor behind her before meeting her's again.

"Quite so." he agreed. "You're looking well, Mr. Stark. Seems my grandson got the worse of the relationship." Sansa balked. She hadnt expected him to bring up Joffrey.

"All a matter of prespective, I'd imagine." She smiled sweetly.

"Lovely to see you, Sansa." Jaime's voice, always filled with a hint of teasing seduction brought her attention away from Tywin. He was gorgeous, of course, with his tall frame and quintessential Lannister looks. He held out his hand for her and when she took it, he covered it with his other.

"Jaime." Sansa smiled, hoping it didnt tremble as much as her stomach did.

"You are as pretty as your mother." Jaime held her hand for a little too long before dropping it. "Obviously my nephew isn't as big an idiot as he's totted to be."

"I'm not so sure of that." she said before she could stop herself. Jaime raised a brow, but a smile pulled at the corner of his perfect mouth. Tywin, on the other hand, stiffened his spine and glared at her.

"He may have noticed my beauty, sir, but then agian, he wasn't able to keep me."

"Your father has given you too much leeway, child." Tywin said. "You should learn to watch your tongue." he took a step closer and Sandor did as well, moving so he stood just behind her right shoulder. Jaime glanced up at him, noticing him for the first time.

"Oh, good gods." he laughed. "I see your father has gotten you a guard dog." Ignoring his fathers ill temper and Sansa's fear, he stepped closer to talk with Sandor.

"How is it, dog, working for the wolves?"

"Better a wolf then a pack of dying lions." Instead of getting angry, Jaime just laughed.

"I guess it doesnt matter who the hand belongs to, so long as the dog gets fed."

"All this talk of dogs," another voice cut through the tension. "when there is such a pretty lady around." Sansa looked down between Tywin and Jaime to see a dwarf. His hair was an odd mixture of both black and blonde, one green eye and one black looked up at her with sincere pleasure.

"It's so lovely to meet you at last, Ms. Stark." he held up a hand to her and she hesitantly took it. "Tyrion Lannister."

"You'll have to excuse me." Tywin's voice dripped with disgust. He shot Sansa another glare before walking away.

"You're Joffrey's uncle?" Sansa asked, then cringed at the obvious disbelief in her voice. She'd known he was a dwarf, but for some reason seeing it was different then just thinking it. It was hard to wrap her mind around the fact that this little disfigured man was the brother to the tall and achingly gorgeous man next to him. Tyrion only laughed at her tone.

"Dont see the resemblence, do you?" he teased. "Well, I can't say I'm bothered by that." his expression turned serious and his head leaned to the side a bit, studying her.

"I can say, Ms. Stark, that I was greatly bothered by my nephews conduct in regards to you. If I had known, if I had been present, you must know that I wouldn't have allowed such behavior." Surprised and slightly taken aback, Sansa unwillingly glanced at Jaime. Here was this half man, so small and unthreatening, saying he would have helped her, would have put a stop to the abuse, and all the while Jaime had stood by, knowing what was going on, and not done a thing. Just another lesson in the descrepancy of looks and actions, she supposed. For his part, at least Jaime looked mildly guilty at her acusing look.

"You needn't worry, Mr. Lannister." Sansa looked back down at the man. "I had a protector of my own." she angled her body to the side, turning slightly so that her slight frame no longer blocked any part of Sandor, her shoulder brushing his bicep in the process. Tyrion looked the long way up at Sandor, who was all but snarling down at him, with an amused look on his face.

"Ah, well, then I owe you thanks Mr. Clegane." he offered a hand Sandor didnt acknowledge.

"Didn't do it for you, half man." Tyrion's brows shot up, but a grin pulled at his mouth as he looked from Sandor to Sansa and back.

"No." he let his hand fall with a chuckle. "I dont imagine you did."

"Come on, girl." Sandor placed one large hand in the middle of her back and urged her forward. "You're brothers are waiting for you at the table."

"Lovely to meet you, Ms. Stark." Tyrion said before she could take a step.

"And you, Mr. Lannister." she glanced at Jaime and gave a small nod. "Mr. Lannister." He gave her a briliant smile and bowed gallantly.

"Ms. Stark." Sansa let Sandor guide her back towards there table, but after only a few steps, her body started to tremble. She'd been holding herself so stiff, so ridged, while speaking to the Lannister's, had kept her fear and nerves so pent up, they were on overload now.

"Almost there, little bird." Sandor's voice whispered near her ear. "Dont lose it now. Everyone is watching." She knew that. During her conversation with the lions, the room had gone oddly silent. People were watching ,waiting, wanting to see if she would break. Well, she'd messed up so badly already she refused to bring her family any more shame. Head held high, she met Robb's eyes and drew strength from the pride shinning in them and strode confidently to her table.

"Everything alright?" Robb asked when she reached him, his hand coming up to rest on her shoulder.

"It's fine." she smiled. "I'm fine."

"They didnt bother you, did they?" Jon asked, his eyes locked on where she'd just left.

"Not really, no."

"If they said anything..." Jon's voice dropped in tone. His face, though, gave away nothing.

"Your sister handled herself." Sandor's steel on stone voice brought Jon's attention away from the Lannisters. "She doesn't need anyone avenging her." Stunned, Sansa's head spun around to look at him, but he wasn't looking at her. His words were startling. He'd always thought of her as a stupid little bird, and he hadn't been wrong, as much as she hated to admit it. Both her brothers were silent for a long time before Robb finally spoke.

"Of course she handled herself." Robb squeezed her shoulder. "She's a Stark, after all." Yes, she was a Stark, but no one had ever spoken of her as a wolf. All of her other sibblings had been referred to as such. Young wolf, little wolf, she wolf, wolf cub, Bran had even been called the broken wolf a few times and Arya wolf bitch. No, she was ladylike Sansa, a little bird. She hadnt inharited the bravery and strength that her sibblings obviously had. Or had she?

"A dance, sister?" Robb asked, offering her his arm. With a smile, she accepted, and just like that, all her worries and nerves about the night dissipated. She danced with Robb, with Jon, their father and later she danced with Theon, Willas, and even Loras and a few others she couldnt remember the names of. When it was time to leave, her feet ached and her hair was starting to fall from it's elaborate braided updo. With Sandor close behind her, she and her family made their exit together, along with a lot of others. Coats out of check, they stood outside on the sidewalk with a huge crowd, waiting on their cars to come around.

"Did you meet the new Baratheon boy?" Sansa asked Arya as they waited.

"He doesnt go by Baratheon." Arya snapped a little defensivly. "He still goes by Waters."

"What was his name?" Sansa asked. "Jeffrey, or Joey?"

"Gendry." Sansa grinned, a brow raising. Did Arya's voice sound a little breathy?

"Hmm." she hummed with a bigger grin. "He is about your age, isnt he?" Arya shot her a narrow eyed glare.

"No. I think he's closer to your age." A cruel smile spread across her face. "I'm surprised you didnt dance with him, sister. His income is right up your alley, although I think he's a little rougher around the edges then you generally prefer. Besides, he's actually had to work for his living." Sansa flinched at her sisters taunting, blinking back tears, she looked away from her.

"You obviously don't know me very well anymore, Arya." She said it softly, maybe Arya wouldnt hear her. But she never got the chance to find out. Before she would have had the time to respond, a shot rang out through the air. Sansa jumped and choas broke out as another shot ripped through the air. She barely had time to realize what was happening when she found herself bodily slammed into the ground. She'd been in the process of turning around, trying to figure out where the shots were coming from, so she landed on her hip. Sandor's body weight crushed her onto her back. More shots were sounding, people screaming and crying filled the night air. She tried to turn her head to find Arya or her parents, but Sandor wrapped an arm around the top of her head and forced her head back to the cement.

"Stay down!" he growled in her ear. It occured to her then that they were in the wide open. No cars or buildings or even a light pole to help sheild them. But she was covered. Completely, actually. Sandor's huge body covered her legs, her torso, and he covered her head his his shoulders and his arm curved around the top. His other arm slid between their bodies and slipped inside of his jacket. She couldnt see anything other then his shoulder and neck, but she knew he was pulling out his gun. Sirens joined in with the shots and screaming and after what felt like hours, the firing of guns stopped all together. Sandor eased his weight up off her, but kept her tucked close to him as he went to his knees and pulled her into a sitting position. Clinging to the lapels of his suit jacket, she turned her head in the direction that her family had been in.

Robb was just getting up off the ground, Rickon underneath him. Jon did the same, his arms still wrapped around Arya. Bran was being set back upright in his chair by one of the other body guards. But it wasnt until she found her father that panic really set in. He was on his knees, his tux shirt covered in blood, Her mother stood behind him, tears streaming down her cheeks, her perfectly coifed hair now a mess.

"Daddy!" Sansa shouted, scrambling out from between Sandor's legs.

"Wait, damn you!" she ignored Sandor's cursing and crawled the short distance to her father. When she got closer, she realized it wasnt his blood that covered him. He knelt over Jory's body.

Blood had soaked his white undershirt until it was all red and pooling around his shoulders. His face was pale now, his mouth open slightly, his eyes staring up blankly. His gun was still in his hand.

"Oh, Gods." she pulled up short, her blood turning cold with the realization of what she was looking at.

Jory was dead.

Sandor caught her around the waist then, shifting so his back was towards the direction the shots had been coming from. She went lax in his grip, her hand coming up shakily to cover her mouth.

"Oh, Gods." she said again. With little effort, Sandor turned her away from the sight and she gladly burried her face in his shoulder. It was an odd position, both of them on their knees, her once beautiful dress dirty and torn. He sank back onto his heels and kept one arm wrapped around her shoulders. He didn't pat her back or smooth her hair or whisper comforting words to her, but she was almost glad for it. Right now, all she needed was his silent, solid strength.

And like always, he gave it to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should have another chapter up later this evening!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ones pretty long so bare with me!

It had been a month since the formal. Jory hadn't been the only one killed that night. Several others, mostly guards and one valet, had been shot and died. Even more others had been shot but survived. Turned out there were six shooters. A fanatic group that had been out to kill as many of the rich and powerful as they could. And what better place then the formal. It was like fish in a barrel. Unfortunately for them, these fish happened to all be well protected so no one with a name anyone cared about had been killed. Just those in service to them. Sandor had immediately wondered if it had been the Lannisters and their beef with Sansa. It hadn't been, though, or at least no connections had been made. Sandor remained unconvinced and spent too damn much of his personal time calling in favors to find out more info.

It still made his stomach cramp painfully to think about that night. He'd done his damn best to keep her covered, but just the prospect of her being shot or killed had been torture. He'd been in shoot outs before, both during his time in war and in service to the Lannisters. Never once had be been so bloody nervous, though. And never once had be been so happy when it was over. Generally speaking, he loved the rush of danger. But having Sansa at risk took all the joy out of it. He'd been overwhelmingly glad when he'd sat up and found Sansa was alright, unharmed.

But then he'd seen Jory.

He still couldn't believe the man as dead. He'd been damn good at his job and had ultimately given it all in protecting Ned and Catelyn. Sandor knew, though, that Jory wouldn't have had any regrets. He'd always been willing to die for any the Starks.

For weeks after a dark, mournful cloud had filled the Stark house, almost as if they'd lost a member of their family. And Jory had been, in a way. He'd been with Ned since the very beginning, before he even married Catelyn. He'd watched each of the children be born and helped raise them as they grew. Robb, Jon, Sansa, and Arya were at the house almost every evening. Ned, for his part, had withdrawn. Not that Sandor had expected anything else. One thing he enjoyed most of working for the wolf was his silence. He didn't feel the need to voice every thought in his head, and he didn't joke around or force small talk. What did surprise Sandor was the fact that Ned paid for everything. The casket, the funeral, the burial, everything. Jory had no family to speak of, no one would really care if he'd been buried in a pine box but Ned spared no expense. Having served in the Army with Ned, he was given a burial with all the military honors.

After the month had passed, things went back to normal, more or less. The kids stopped coming over as much and everything slowly went back to it's previous routine. For everyone except Sandor, that is. The day Eddard Stark had called him into his office, Sandor hadn't known what to expect. When the wolf asked him to take on the position as head of his security team, as his personal guard, Sandor nearly swallowed his tongue. Surely there were other men on the security team that had been in his service longer, but Ned had told him, rather emphatically, that he trusted Sandor more than any of them. That had caused him to pause. But it wasn't really Sandor as a person that Ned trusted, it was his ability with a weapon and his experience. He'd hedged, asked for a few days to think about it. But he didn't really have anything to think about. Of course he'd take the job and the raise it came with. It'd be enough to get him out of that shit neighborhood and his even shittier studio. But he sort of liked it. It was what he was used to and in the end didn't move. His extra income went into a savings account. What he was saving for, he didn't really know. Still, it was nice to know if he fucked up and lost his job he wouldn't go hungry right away.

His new position as head of security came with longer hours, and also meant he had to start wearing a suit since he had to accompany Ned to the office. The night of the formal had done in his Armani, the knees having been ripped out after he tackled the little bird to the sidewalk, so he had to buy a few new ones. Thankfully Stark wasn't such an uptight bastard as his former employers and had given him a wardrobe allowance. Buying off the rack wasn't an option for a man Sandor's size, and if he had to wear a fucking suit, he was damn well wearing one that fit nicely. Still high end name brands, but not nearly as fitted as the one Jaime had forced him in to, his suits fit less like a vice and more like a...well, a well fitting suit that didn't leave his damned ankles showing when he sat down. Regardless of how better the suits fit, he didn't wear them to and from work, changing when he got to the Stark's house instead. He felt a bit ridiculous driving a motorcycle in a fucking suit.

It was after work one night, about a month after he'd started the new position, and he'd just finished changing out of his suit and into jeans and a black Henley before going to the back garages to retrieve his bike. It was already dark outside, coming up on nine o'clock. Idling slowly down the long drive, he stopped where it met the road and shut the bike off for a second so he could pull his cell from his back pocket and move it to his front so he didn't shatter it or drop it. He'd just pulled his helmet back on and was fixing to turn the bike back on when the car passed him. A little red Fiat.

"Don't fucking do it." he growled to himself even as he turned the bikes engine over and pulled out. He told himself for a while that he was just following her because she happened to be going in the same direction as he needed to go to get home. Two wrong turns blew that theory out of the water. So then he told himself that he was just making sure she was getting wherever she was going safely.

He hated lies, even ones he told himself.

When she pulled the car into a vacant spot along a crowded stretch of road, he slowed the bike and pulled it in behind a truck several spots behind her. When she got out of the car, two other girls piled out of the passenger side. He recognized both of them as friends of hers. That damn Tyrell girl who was trying to hook Sansa up with her cripple of a brother and a girl Sansa went to school with, Jeyne he thought her name was. He watched as they all locked arms with loud giggles, each trotting with practiced ease in their high heels and bare legs even though it was bloody fucking freezing outside. At least they all wore heavy coats, daft girls. Distracted as he was by Sansa's long length of bare legs, he didn't notice where they were headed until they were already admitted through the doors by the bouncer. Mystic was a dance club, the kind Sandor normally wouldn't come within throwing distance of. Sandor didn't do dancing, or clubs. He did bars or pubs.

So he'd lost ever loving bloody mind. Getting off the bike, he strapped his helmet onto the handle bar and skulked up to the entrance, not bothering with the line just as the girls had done. The bouncer, a half head shorter than himself, eyed him warily for a moment before Sandor pulled out a wad of bills and shoved them into the mans hand. He had no idea what he was doing, or why he was following her. It was a creepy, stalkerish move. But he was still doing it. Spending way too much money on a single beer, he found an empty table near the dance floor, but half hidden by a pillar. The music was far too loud, the strobe lights nearly seizure inducing, and it was hot enough that Sandor had to roll his sleeves up to his elbows. Sansa and her friends weren't too hard to spot. With her and Margaery's high profile lives, they were surrounded by a hoard of people.

He refused to acknowledge the fact he'd nearly tipped his beer glass over when he seen what she was wearing, revealed now that her coat was gone. The dress was black and tiny, barely hitting her mid thigh. It looked like a single piece of fabric that wrapped around her, leaving her chest bare and the sides hung lower on her thighs then it did in the split of her legs. The top molded her body while the skirt was loose, making it easier to move. A gold belt around the middle seemed to be the only thing that held the fabric together. Her long red hair was left down and seemed to have more bounce to it then normal. She looked...sexy. Damn sexy. Usually she dressed reserved and modest, but she was more uncovered then not at the moment.

It was too much. He needed to leave. He shouldn't be there watching her, leering at her like some fucking...peeping tom. But he couldn't seem to move. He'd finish his beer that had cost way too much, then he'd leave. Yeah, a single beer and then he'd be gone.

*****************************

Sansa still couldn't believe she'd let Margaery talk her into the dress. It was pretty, though, and not nearly as revealing as the strappy little number Marg wore. It was a V neck wrap with a tulip skirt and it had a little gold belt around the waist that matched the gold pumps she wore. She felt nervous and awkward revealing so much skin that she normally kept hidden, save for her bathing suit but even that was a full piece. But she'd wanted to go out, to have fun and forget about that night nearly two months ago when she'd seen Jory die.

After a few drinks, she actually forgot that she felt uncomfortable in the dress and even let Marg and Jeyne lead her out on the dance floor amongst the other writhing bodies. Two songs in, along with a shot of whiskey, and she was covered in sweat and breathing hard but she felt light, a little daring, and maybe a bit drunk.

For some reason, or maybe it was the drunk thing, she started thinking about Sandor Clegane. He always said what a well trained bird she was, always doing what was expected of her and how ladylike she was. She wondered what he would think of her now, seeing her wiggle and shimmy to a dirty song. Sansa didn't like to think of herself as conceited, but she was confident enough in herself to know she was a good dancer and judging from the number of guys fighting to stand behind her as she moved, she looked sexy when she did it. She had been pushing them away politely, or subtly turning as she danced so they couldn't press themselves against her or touch her waist. But somewhere around the middle of the third song, and another drink, she caught the eye of a man sitting at a table on the other end of the dance floor. It was dark in his corner and with the strobing black lights, it made it hard for Sansa to see very well, but she was almost positive it was a certain security guard and that he was watching her, not that she could really see his eyes to know for sure. It might not even be him, but it looked enough like him that she got a thrill out of him watching her move.

Deliberately, she started to move more seductively and when another man stepped up behind her, she let him, imagining it was the man watching her instead, imagining that he was thinking the same. Legs braced slightly apart, she swayed and wiggled her hips to the throbbing beat of the dance music, letting her knees bend as she moved, her arms tracing the lines of her sides before pulling her hair off her neck, all the while watching the man on the other end of the dance floor. When the man behind her put his hands on her hips, she didn't remove them, letting him touch her and his body press against hers as he moved with her. She kept her eyes on the other man, though, hoping he was picturing those hands and that body as his own.

It was a heady rush of adrenaline and arousal, things Sansa wasn't accustomed to, but she still didn't stop or look away. She let the man behind her run his hands up and down her waist, or around to her belly, only stopping him when he tried to go too low or made a move to cup her breasts.

She wasn't that wanton.

When the song ended she was hot and sweaty, her heart was racing and her head was spinning. Too much to drink and too many new feelings were rushing through her. She turned to the man behind her, thanked him and declined a drink before turning back to Margaery and Jeyne. Jeyne was closer so she grabbed her arm and pulled her close, leaning close to her ear.

"I'm going out for some fresh air." she yelled so she could be heard over the music.

"You want me to come with you?" Jeyne yelled back. Sansa looked beside her friend at the adorable ginger boy that had been dancing with her all night and how he was politely waiting for her now.

"No, I'll just be a moment. Let Marg know where I went." Jeyne nodded and Sansa turned and made her way off the dance floor and to the double glass doors that led to a patio. During the warmer months, it would be packed as well, but since it was so cold now it sat empty except for the occasional smoker. At the moment, Sansa was alone. Sitting down on the wooden bench that surrounded the metal fence, she stretched her legs out in front of her and crossed at the ankle, then let her head fall back against the metal bars. It was cold out, but she was so overheated and her head was spinning from the amount she'd had to drink, it felt wonderful. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, trying to clear her head. Thinking back to what she'd just done, she blushed and then giggled. She heard the doors open and then shut. Without opening her eyes, she could feel someone walk out on to the patio. Oddly enough, she knew exactly who it was.

"Enjoy the show?" she asked without looking at him. Wow, she really was drunk if she was saying stuff like that. And she didn't even blush.

"You better be careful with shit like that." his voice came from her side and she opened her eyes and lifted her head to see him leaning against the fencing to her side. His eyes raked over her body and it felt like a direct caress. She shivered. His eyes snapped back up to her face. "Some men might take it as an invitation." Sansa couldn't help but giggle, which caused his eyes to narrow. He stood ramrod straight, his arms crossed over his chest. If she hadn't been so drunk she may have noticed that he looked pissed off. "An invitation for what?" she grinned up at him.

"To watch?" Taking a step closer, Sandor bent down, one hand on the rails next to her head, and glared at her.

"You like that?" his voice was soft and Sansa felt hot. Too hot. Her mouth fell open slightly to allow for her rapid breaths as her lower belly clenched with...was that need? She tried to pretend she wasn't wet and achy. "People watching you? Seeing you act like a slut on the dance floor with some fuck you never even looked at."

Sansa gasped, his words hitting her like physical blows, a bucket of ice on her arousal. She jerked back from him as far as the fence behind her allowed and fought back the urge to cry, which was harder then normal since she was drunk. An odd look passed over his face but he finally pulled away and took a step back from her.

"Why are you always so awful?" she asked, trying not to pout. She hadn't really expected him to answer, so she wasn't surprised when he didn't. Dropping her hands to the bench beside her hips, she went to stand up.

"Ouch!" she gasped, yanking her hand up to her face. There, sticking out of the pad of her middle finger, was a large splinter. "Oh, crap." she shook the offending finger.

"What is it?" Sandor took a small step closer to her and she jerked her body to the side, holding her hand close to her chest as she glared at him, completely unaware she looked like a toddler instead of a grown woman. Sandor looked as if he were about to smile and she wanted nothing more then to slap his face.

"Let me see." his voice sounded like he was trying to speak with a belligerent child, which maybe she was acting like but it still grated on her nerves. Especially since he'd just called her a slut.

"No." she turned her head away from him. "Go away."

"Come on now, little bird." he reached forward and grasped her wrist. That was all it took, just him calling her that nickname that used to annoy her and she gave right in. He squatted down in front of her, so close his chest rested against her bare knees, and pulled her hand up close to his face.

"Just a little splinter." she breathed and maybe swayed on the bench. She wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or his proximity that made her so light headed. He nodded, pulling her middle finger up and wrapping two of his fingers around it to hold it still, his thumb resting just below where the splinter was.

"Hold still." he said. "I'll have it out in a second." And then, to her great surprise, he pulled her finger to his mouth and wrapped his lips around it. White hot sensation shot up her finger and relit the fire inside of her belly. When his tongue probed the pad of her finger lightly she gasped, then let out a shaky breath. Holding her finger in his mouth, he looked up at her and Sansa couldn't look away. She had no idea her finger held that many nerve endings, but she was trembling with the sensation of him lightly sucking on her finger. His teeth found the tip of the splinter and all too soon, but not soon enough, he pulled away. Still holding her finger, he turned his head to the side and spit out the splinter, his thumb smoothed over where it had been.

"There." his voice was different, deeper then she'd ever heard it before.

"Thank you." her voice was hardly even a whisper. He glanced down at her finger and so did she. A little dot of blood marred the otherwise pale surface. When he lifted it back to his mouth, she never even once thought about pulling away or stopping him. Just watched with wide eyes as he pulled it into his mouth again and swiped his tongue across it. He slowly let it out of his mouth, but kept it pressed to his mouth. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, when the doors behind him flew open.

"Sansa!" Margaery's voice broke through the haze of tense arousal and Sansa pulled her hand away from Sandor and shifted away from him slightly.

"Hey, Marg." She smiled a little shaky.

"I was wondering where you went." Margaery watched Sandor as he stood up straight, then gave Sansa a wide eyed look, both her perfect brows pulled up to her hairline.

"Just needed some air."

"Well, uh," Margaery laughed, then stumbled a little. "Jeyne is leaving with that sexy ginger boy."

"Is she okay?" Sansa stood, her legs a little wobbly. From the drinking, she was sure.

"Oh, Jeyne hasn't drank at all." Margaery laughed again. "She knows what she's doing. And at least one of us is getting lucky tonight." Again she glanced at Sandor, then back to Sansa, a grin on her face. "Or maybe I'm just the odd one out."

"Let's go say goodnight to Jeyne." Sansa ignored her comment. "Then we should probably head home as well."

"You're not driving home." Sandor spoke for the first time since their interruption.

"Slut though I may be, Mr. Clegane," Sansa purposefully enunciated his name, getting away from the familiarity that seemed to pass between them a moment ago. "I'm not a complete idiot. Of course I'm not driving."

"Slut?" Margaery asked in confusion.

"She's not driving either." He pointed at Marg and Sansa rolled her eyes.

"Ever heard of a cab?" She scoffed, then went to head towards the door, hooking Margaery's arm as she went.

"Did he call you a slut?" Margaery asked, glaring over at Sandor. "I mean, come on, you're the biggest prude I know."

"Goodnight, Mr. Clegane." Sansa called over her shoulder, pulling Margaery along with her. They found Jeyne near the bar with the sexy ginger and said their goodbyes. Margaery ordered them both another shot.

"To your inner slut." Margaery teasingly toasted and Sansa laughed, clinking her glass with Margaery's, then tossed the burning liquid back.

"I'll call a cab now." Margaery said, pulling her phone out of her little clutch.

"I'll drive you both home." Sansa spun around to find Sandor looming over her and she scowled at him, although she wasn't sure which Sandor she should glare at. And maybe her unsteadiness took away from her anger.

"No thank you, sir." her sir had a little extra L somewhere in there. "We'll get an Uber."

"And leave you car here?" he asked. "And how will you get it in the morning? You going to call your daddy?"

"Oh, you just shut up." was her super mature comeback. But he was right. How would she get her car in the morning? She had to pick up Arya from the airport at noon. Her dad wouldn't be too happy that she left her car in a club parking lot all night. Neither would either of her brothers. Margaery didn't have a car, just drivers, and she lived on the opposite end of town.

"Keys." he held out his big hand and Sansa grumbled some more as she stomped to the coat check. Digging in her pocket, she fished out the keys and threw them at Sandor, who easily caught them with one hand before they hit his chest. He led her and Margaery out to her car.

"He's sort of terrifying, isn't he?" Margaery whispered not so quietly as they stumbled after him.

"More bark then bite." Sansa giggled. "Usually."

"He does have a sort of sexy dark and brooding thing going on for him." Marg titled her head to the side and blatantly checked out his ass. It really was a nice ass so Sansa couldn't blame her. Sansa didnt comment, but did let out a little sigh.

"If you can get past those horrible scars, he does have the hottest body I've seen in a long time." Sansa jerked her head around to glare at Marg, pulling her arm free to slap her shoulder.

"Ouch!" she rubbed her arm. "What was that for?"

"That was for you being rude." Sansa scolded her, but it lost a bit of it's meaning when her heel caught on the sidewalk and she pitched forward, just managing to stop herself before she face planted. Margaery clasped her arm in both her hands and they both busted out laughing again. Sandor growled, but she swore she seen a grin on his face as he unlocked her car and opened the passenger door. Leaning in, he flipped the lever that let the seatback down. The act gave both girls a prime view of that bottom they'd just spoken of. They both let out a little 'ah' and savored the sight. Standing back up, Sandor glared at both their wide eyed looks.

"Get in." he motioned for Margaery to crawl into the miniscule backseat. She did it was an amount of grace that was quite admirable given how drunk she was. Sansa only caught a single glimpse of her panties. Slamming the seat back in position, Sandor motioned for her to get in, which she did was a decided lack of grace. Damn little car. Closing her door, Sandor rounded the front of the car and both girls cracked up laughing again as he folded himself into the tiny car. Even with the seat pushed all the way back, his knees came up to both sides of the steering wheel.

"Yeah, yeah." he turned the car and on shifted into first. "Real fucking funny."

************

Sandor easily found Margaery's flat. It was in the center of town in the biggest, newest, and most ostentatious building. Convincing Sansa to stay in the car while he got the other girl inside was more difficult, but after a few threats, she stayed put. Holding the Tyrell girls arm so she didn't fall on her ass, he hauled her inside the lobby.

"You know, you really shouldn't have called her a slut." She said casually once they went through the doors. Yeah, he knew that. And he hadn't really meant it. He knew Sansa wasn't a slut, as far from one as you could get actually, but he was trying to get a point across. Other men, like the one dry humping her ass, didn't know that. Sandor caught the eye of her lobby guard and shoved her towards him.

"Make sure she get's up to her place." Sandor growled at the man, who nodded willingly.

"Hey!" The girl shouted at him just as he was about to push the doors open. He didn't turn around to face her, but he did stop so she could speak. "I've seen the way you look at her." Sandor's body tensed at her words, but he still didn't face her. "And not just tonight. If you want her, which it's plainly obvious you do, maybe insulting her isn't the best way to go about it."

Sandor shot the girl a glare, but didn't say anything. No, he wasn't going to tell her she was right, but neither would he lie and say she was wrong. He just hoped it wasn't that obvious to everyone else. Pushing the door open, he stalked back out to the car and refolded himself into it. With Margaery out of the back seat, Sansa had reclined her seat fully back. Her body was twisted to the side, facing him, her long legs bent at the knee and rested on the middle console, red hair spilled over the white leather of her seat. She'd left her coat undone, so he had a good view of her. Driving the tiny car was difficult enough. His knees nearly touched the wheel and made it hard to push in the clutch and shift, but having her laid back and so prettily on view made it damn near impossible.

She was awake when he got in, her big blue eyes watching him as he started and put the car in gear. He felt her watching him as he pulled out in traffic and only cast her a glance when he was on the straightaway.

"Do you really think I was being a slut tonight?" She asked softly. He didn't look at her after she spoke, but he couldn't help his knuckles brushing her knees as he shifted into another gear. The damn car was too small to avoid it.

"I don't think you're a slut, little bird." he finally said. "But acting that way, moving the way you were against that guy, well, it puts ideas in a mans head. Ideas he might not ask your permission for if you're drunk enough not to care at the moment." She sighed lightly and shifted in her seat a little, letting the quiet stretch for a while.

"Did I put ideas in your head?" she surprised the shit out of him by asking. Surprised him enough he let out a bark of laughter.

"Wasn't my body you were sliding all across." he deflected her question. Beside him, out of the corner of his eye, he seen her smile as she closed her eyes, a secretive little laugh coming from her mouth. He thought to ask her what he hell she was laughing at, but when he glanced over at her, he realized she'd passed out. Good thing. Her forwardness while she was drunk was wearing on him. Hell, he'd been semi hard since he seen her in that damn dress, then watching her with that guy while it looked like she was watching him nearly did him in. Sandor wasn't a dancer, but he could almost picture his hands in place of that buggers. Add to it, he could still taste her on his tongue...yeah. His jeans were real uncomfortable.

But the fact was, she was drunk and would likely be embarrassed and ashamed as hell if she remembered all the things she did and said tonight. Prick he may be, but he wasn't low enough to take advantage of a drunk girl. When he was a few blocks away from her condo, he called for an Uber to take him back to his bike. Parking her car, he went around to her side and tried to shake her awake.

"Shh." she rolled further away from him onto her side in the seat. "It's your turn to feed the dogs, Robb." Sandor couldn't help but chuckle. Luckily her house keys were on the same ring as her cars so he didn't have to do any digging. Scooping her up, he tried to ignore how good she felt in his arms. Or the fact that she curled right into his chest, one hand fisting in his shirt. He got the front door unlocked and kicked it shut behind him before dropping her keys onto the table near the door. He was halfway up the stairs with her when she nuzzled her cold little nose into his throat.

"Mmm." she hummed and goose bumps broke out on his skin. "You smell good." Yeah, so did she. Damn good.

Shit. He really needed to get out of here.

Bounding up the rest of the stairs, he kicked the first door open. The bedroom was dim, but he could just make out an unmade bed and clothes strung out all over the floor. UFC posters and the weight bench in the corner told him it wasn't Sansa's room. Pulling the door shut, he went on down the hall. He passed two more doors, one stood open to a bathroom, and the other was too narrow to be a room, before he finally came to her bedroom door that was also open. Her bedroom, unlike her sisters, was completely tidy, her bed made and pillows placed just so. It was also brighter, but that was probably because of all the yellow and purple instead of black and grey like Arya's.

Carrying her to the bed, he laid her on the mattress. Standing up, he looked down at her. Her arms were both tossed up over her head, her coat all twisted around her now. She looked uncomfortable as hell. With a low growl, he leaned down and hooked an arm under her neck to pull her up. With his free arm, he managed to get her coat off. Laying her back down, he tossed the coat into a chair in the corner then pulled her heels off, just managing not to let his hands slid up her calves. Letting them fall to the floor, he rearranged her into a more comfortable position before pulling the folded quilt at the foot of the bed up over her.

He didn't, however, manage not to let his fingers brush her hair off her forehead.

She let out a content sigh and leaned into his touch. Yanking his hand away, he glared at her sleeping form. Damn her. Going into her en suite, not caring at all that he was rummaging through her personal things, he found a bottle of Aspirin and filled a glass with water. After sitting them on her nightstand, he pulled himself from her room and shut the door behind him, like that would help prevent him from returning. Going back downstairs, he made sure the door was locked before stepping outside. His Uber was there a few seconds later.

When he didn't see her again for a whole other week, he'd almost managed to convince himself he was glad of it. She was probably embarrassed about how she'd spoken to him, ashamed even. If she even remembered it at all. He was just leaving Ned's office to go change before he headed home when he ran into her.

"Oh." She blushed immediately, but smiled at him. "Hello, Mr. Clegane." "Ms. Stark." he tilted his head to her. It annoyed him that she called him Mr. Clegane. It made him sound old. Although, he supposed he was compared to her. Hell, he was fumbling through his first time fucking a girl when she was still in diapers. He went to move around her in the hall when she shifted to the side a little, blocking his way. He looked down at her with his one good brow cocked.

"I wanted to thank you for the other night." She spoke quietly and her eyes drifted away from his. "And to apologize."

"What the fuck are you apologizing for?" he snapped and her eyes flicked back up to his, wide with her shock. She quickly recovered and actually almost smiled.

"For being entirely too drunk and for acting like...well, for acting the way I did. You shouldn't have had to give up your night just to babysit me." Her eyes narrowed and her head cocked to the side, like she'd just realized something. "What were you doing there that night?" she asked. "Mystic doesn't seem like your sort of hang out."

"It's not." he shrugged. "I went there because I seen you go inside. Wanted to make sure you didn't get yourself into trouble." Her face was carefully expressionless as she studied his face, making him squirm a little.

"You followed me there?" He didn't hesitate before he answered.

"Yes." He eyed her, waiting for her reaction. She didn't give him much of one, just a little grin and a shrug of her shoulders.

"Well, thank you. For the ride, and for the aspirin and water." she laughed in self deprecation. "I definitely need it the next morning."

"Save your thanks, girl." he was uncomfortable at the receiving end of peoples gratitude since he seldom ever was. "It was nothing." Her smile broadened and she shook her head a little.

"Well, you have it whether you want it or not." she stepped to the side so he could pass. He grunted his acceptance and moved past her. He was only several steps away when she spoke again. "Oh, and thank you for removing my splinter."

His steps came to an abrupt halt. He was hoping she wouldn't remember that part of the night. And was that a teasing tone in her voice?

"It felt much better once you were finished." Yep. It damn sure was. Time to get the fuck away from her before he shoved her against the wall and showed her just how much better he could make it feel. Even though he wanted to, he managed to keep himself from sprinting away. If only just.

After changing his clothes, he made his way to the back garages to get his bike when he ran into the other Stark girl. Literally. He didn't even try to stop her from falling onto her arse, just glared down at her from where he stood.

"Damn it, Clegane." she glared up at him before pushing herself up to stand. "Don't you watch where you're going?"

"I could ask you the same."

"Yeah, well, this is my house you know. I shouldn't have to watch out for the likes of you." Sandor just laughed at her.

"This isn't your house, you little she-wolf. It's your fathers."

"That makes it more mine then it does yours." She shot back like a petulant child with her hands on her hips. "Don't think for a single second you are any thing more then the hired guard dog you are." Although he didn't show it outwardly, her words were like a well placed kick to his balls. And he'd been entertaining the idea of Sansa Stark wanting him. Buggering idiot.

"Don't worry, child." he growled. "I know my standing. A good question would be, do you?" He walked around her to go to his bike. He knew the girl struggled with what she wanted to be and what she was expected to be. Might of been a low blow, but hell, she fought dirty herself and he'd never once claimed to be above low blows.

One Stark girl delt with and forgotten. Now if only he could do the same with the other one


	6. Chapter 6

Sansa had just finished her last class of the day and was making her way across campus when it started snowing. It wasn't the first snow of the year. Winter was drawing to an end now and it would likely be the last fall of the season. Sansa didn't mind it. She loved the snow and the cold, although the Fiat was sort of crappy on the snow and ice. Pulling up her collar and tugging her Burberry knit cap down lower around her ears, she hurried to her car and started the engine so it would warm up. Pulling off her leather gloves, she found her phone and turned it back on to check it. A missed call from Arya, a few texts from her as well, and another missed call from Margaery. Sansa hadn't seen her since the night they went to the club a few weeks ago. They'd talked on the phone and through texts, and she wouldn't lay off harping on Sansa about Sandor. The girl was convinced that there was something going on between them.

Sansa was determined to prove her wrong.

She didnt have any feelings for Sandor beyond her respect for him as her fathers guard. The fact that her heart skipped a beat every time she seen him, or that her belly tightened with butterflies and maybe something else when their eyes met, meant nothing. So, she noticed how nice his body really was, even in his worn old jeans and crappy t-shirts, and she didnt really mind his burn scars at all. Niether of those things mattered. Nor did the fact that she dreamt of him often and it was usually with thoughts of the sound of his raspy voice that filled her head before she drifted off. Even now, sitting in her cold car, her body started to feel all warm and glowy just thinking about him.

_NO!_ No, that was just the heater starting to work. Pushing those thoughts to the back of her mind, she called Arya back.

"Hey, bitch." was Arya's oh so respectful way of answering the phone. "You done with class yet?"

"Yes. I just got out to my car. What's up?"

"It's Friday and I just realized that we haven't seen each other a lot lately with school and my being gone a lot." Sansa felt her eyebrows shoot up.

"I know." Sansa agreed a little cautiously. "It's been crazy busy lately."

"Well, I was thinking that maybe we should, I don't know, hang out or something." Sansa felt herself smile.

"You want to hang out with me?" She heard Arya sigh in exasperation.

"You're my sister, San, of course I want to hang out with you."

"Okay, sure. You have something in mind?"

"Actually, yeah." she sounded nervous and that made Sansa nervous. Arya wasn't the nerves type of person. "I, uh, there's this guy." Sansa couldn't stop her squeal of excitement as she bounced on her car seat. Arya groaned. "Sansa, please. Contain yourself."

"Sorry." she laughed. "Sorry. Go ahead."

"Well, this guy, I want you to meet him. You know, sort of a trial thing before he meets the entire Stark pack." Sansa felt her chest tighten and her eyes stung. Arya wanted Sansa to be the first to meet this new guy in her life. It was such a sister thing to do and they hadn't done very many sister things together.

"I'd love to."

"Great, thanks." Arya mumbled. Sansa bit her tongue to keep from telling her to use her words. She didn't want to ruin this moment. "There's a bar called McCann's off the main strip. That's where we're meeting up."

"What time?" Sansa checked the clock on the dash. It was a little after six.

"I figured we'd eat dinner at home together and then go after that. Probably around 8."

"Sounds good. Are you home right now?"

"Yep."

"Well, I'll stop and pick up some takeout on my way home then."

"Good. See ya in a bit." with that, Arya hung up. Sansa stopped at Arya's favorite burger place and picked them up dinner before heading home.

"So, where did you meet this guy?" Sansa asked once they settled at the island to eat.

"Uh, I'd seen him around, you know. But then he joined the gym I go to and we started talking."

"Do I get to know his name?" Arya blushed. Actually blushed! She was not the blushing type any more then she was the nervous type.

"It's, uh, Gendry Waters." Sansa gasped so hard she nearly chocked on her french fry.

"You mean Robert Baratheon's biological son?"

"Yeah." Sansa hadn't thought much about the night of the formal, trying to avoid such memories, but now she remembered how the boy had taken a sort of shine to Arya that night. And how Arya teased Sansa about him just before the shots started.

"That's great, Arya." Sansa reached out and touched her sisters forearm. "I can't wait to meet him."

"Don't make a big deal of it, okay?" Arya stood up and tossed her trash. "It's just a few beers at a bar. And we aren't dating or anything like that."

"You aren't?"

"No." Arya snapped, then sighed. "Maybe. I'm not really sure. That's why I want you there tonight." Sansa smiled softly at her sister. It was such a new experience comforting her, or being the one that she came to. Sansa liked it. A lot.

"Alright." Sansa picked up her trash and threw it away as well. "I'm going to go get changed."

"Yeah, I will to." They climbed the stairs together then separated to get dressed. Since it was just a pub they were going to, Sansa changed into a pair of skinny jeans and a cream cable knit sweater. Pulling her hair back into a simple braid, she went downstairs and gathered her purse and phone together. Arya took a little while longer, which was totally unusual, and when she came down Sansa smiled at her. She'd chosen jeans as well, but paired hers with a figure hugging black sweater and left her gorgeous brown hair down. And if Sansa was seeing correctly, she'd also put on a bit of makeup.

"Should I have an Uber come get us?" She asked, ignoring Sansa's appreciation of her look.

"No, I'm not drinking so I can drive us." The drive to the bar was made in relative silence since they never agreed on music. The bar was off the main strip, a little dingy and a little dark, but once inside it was a little better. A battered bar took up one whole wall, pool tables dominated the back area along with a few dart boards, and a few tables dotted the rest of the room. An old juke box in the corner played old rock music low enough that you could easily talk over the noise. The place was pretty full, but Arya grabbed Sansa's arm and led her to a table near the pool tables. When they got closer, she noticed the guy sitting there was Gendry. He seen Arya approaching and stood up, a huge smile on his adorable face. Sansa smiled as well, but he didn't see. His eyes were all for Arya and that made Sansa even more happy.

"Hey." he said simply when they reached his table.

"Hey yourself." Arya replied. "This is my sister, Sansa." He finally tore his eyes away from Arya and smiled at Sansa.

"Hi, Sansa." he offered her his hand and she took it. "Gendry."

"It's lovely to meet you, Gendry." Arya scoffed at her greeting but Gendry agreed before pulling a chair out for Arya.

"I'm going to get a beer." he said once they were both seated. "You ladies want anything?"

"Beer." Arya answered.

"I'll just take a water, thanks." Sansa waited until he was gone before turning to Arya.

"Arya! He's super cute! And such a gentleman." Arya rolled her eyes, but smiled at the same time. "Why would you think mom and dad wouldn't approve?"

"It's not that. It's just...they actually might." Sansa laughed at the horrified look on Arya's face.

"Is that so bad?"

"I don't know. It's never happened before."

"You've never dated a guy seriously enough for it to even get to the meeting the parents stage." Arya opened her mouth to say something, but Gendry came back then, handing them both their drinks. A little while later a few of Gendry's friends showed up. An adorable boy that was oddly enough called Hot Pie, another named Lommy, and then Arya's grade school best friend Myca. For the next hour everything went wonderful. Gendry was a perfect gentleman, but Arya was right. He was a little rough around the edges, obviously not having been raised in the high class society. Sansa sat at the table, watching as they all played pool, laughing at the silly jokes Hot Pie told. Everything sort of went to crap for Sansa shortly after. Gendry had been watching Arya shoot when someone walked in the bar behind Sansa. He stood up straighter and waved at whoever it was.

"Sandor, hey." Sansa's heart dropped into her belly but she managed not to spin around to see him.

"Hey, Waters." Sandor stepped around the pool table and Gendry met him halfway, clapping Sandor's hand into a shake when they met. Sandor looked over Gendry's shoulder and eyed Arya, who was staring at him with her mouth open, but didn't say anything.

"How's that SIG working out for you?"

"Great." Sandor refocused on Gendry. "Dead eye and the weights perfect. You're not giving it up now you're the fucking Stag are you?" Sansa knew that Gendry had been a gun smith before he was found out to be Robert's son and now she vaguely remembered him and Sandor talking at the formal.

"Hell no." Gendry shook his head with a scowl. "I don't have much to do with the business. Stannis and Renly handle most everything. And I'd never give up the shop in any case." Sandor nodded like he understood but cast another look at Arya.

"You running with the wolves now?"

"Fuck off, dog." Arya snapped.

"Arya!" Sansa gasped at her sisters outburst, which brought Sandor's attention to her for the first time. She blushed as he stared at her, but didn't look away from Arya. "Watch your language." she admonished her sister quietly. Arya just let out a huff and rolled her eyes.

"You work for Eddard now, right?" Gendry asked Sandor, obviously trying to smooth over the suddenly tense atmosphere.

"Yeah." Sandor answered without looking away from Sansa. She finally looked up and met his gaze, her stomach trembling with butterflies.

"Here you go, baby." A woman sidled up next to Sandor, handing him a bottle of beer before slipping her arm around his waist. Sansa felt her mouth fall open and her skin flushed for an entirely different reason then earlier. She was so distracted by the woman she didn't catch the annoyed look on Sandor's face at her address. She was tall, probably around Sansa's height, with hair so dark it looked black, pretty tan skin, slender hips and huge breasts that Sansa immediately deemed fake. Her face was pretty, if not heavily make upped, and she wore skinny jeans that seemed to have been painted on with a little white crop top that showed a little flash of her belly.

Sansa had never been jealous of anyone. Ever. She had never wanted for anything in life, she knew she was pretty, and normally if she wanted something, she got it. Was that was she was feeling right now? Was she jealous of Sandor's girlfriend? Definitely not because of her looks, but because she was with Sandor? Whatever the feeling was, she didn't like it and suddenly hated the other woman.

"Play a game?" Gendry asked, motioning to the pool table.

"We can do teams." Arya tossed in with a evil little smile. "You and your broad against Gendry and I. Looser pays the winners bar tab." Normally Sansa would be horrified that her sister referred to the other woman as a broad, but right now, she could really care less. Sandor agreed to the terms, introduced his 'broad' as Tessa, and moved to rack up the balls to play. Sansa tried to not look at him, or Tessa, tried to focus on Hot Pie and Myca or Lommy, but she couldn't seem to stop. Watching them as closely as she was, she couldn't help but notice that Tessa, non too discreetly, kept herself on Sandor's good side, or that she had the most annoying giggle ever. Sandor didn't seem to notice. Actually, his facial expression stayed perfectly stony the entire time she watched him.

Only once did a flash of something else show. Sansa had watched as Tessa leaned forward across the pool table, saying she didn't know how to make the next shot, and Sandor pressed up against her back, molding his much bigger body around hers as he wrapped his arm around hers to help her aim the cue stick. Sansa's throat had constricted at the sight and her eyes actually stung like she wanted to cry. But as Sandor leaned his face closer to Tessa's to tell her what to do Tessa had actually gasped and jerked her head back before repositioning her head to the unburnt side of his face. His face fell slightly, his eyes going hard before staying that way, and he stepped away from her a little so their bodies were no longer touching. By the time the game was over, Arya and Gendry having won, Sansa was a quivering mass of ugly emotions.

"You alright, San?" Arya asked when she came to sit next to her and take a drink of her beer.

"Fine." Sansa answered too quickly, her eyes flicking unwillingly to Sandor at the next table. Arya glanced over her shoulder to see where her attention had gone before turning back towards Sansa. She didn't say anything at first, just spun her beer bottle around a little. Sansa was glad for it, but also hoped Arya wasn't drawing any conclusions.

"You don't have to stay." she finally said before meeting Sansa's gaze. "I cant catch an Uber or Gendry can take me home."

"To our house or his?" Sansa tried to joke, giving her a smile. Arya gave her a crooked grin before shrugging.

"We'll see."

"Then I think I'm going to go." Sansa stood up and grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair. "Call me in the morning if you need me to come get you."

"Will do." Sansa turned to the rest of the others at the table. "Night, guys. It was good seeing you all." she turned to Gendry. "And it was great meeting you, Gendry."

"You too, Sansa." he stood and gave her a one armed hug. "Drive safe." Avoiding looking at Sandor's table, Sansa went to the bar to settle her tab. While she waited for the bartender, someone touched her shoulder. She was surprised when she turned to find Tessa smiling down at her.

"You're Sansa Stark, right?" she asked with a giddy smile. Sansa groaned inwardly. She was often recognized around. Magazines and fashion blogs liked to post pictures of her with comments on her style. Outwardly, she smiled kindly at the other woman.

"That's me."

"Oh my gosh!" she did a little dance. "Would you mind taking a selfie with me?" Sansa would rather do anything else.

"Of course." she answered and forced a smile as Tessa pulled her in close and held up her IPhone and snapped a picture of them.

"My friends are going to flip." she put her phone back into her pocket. "They all freaked on me when they seen Sandor until I told them he worked for Eddard Stark." Sansa felt her jaw clench and she fought the urge to glare at her. "I mean, sure he's awful and his face is..." she gave a mock shiver of disgust. "but he's a Stark employee. Is he a partner yet, or still working towards it?" Sansa floundered for a long while, stunned at her outright disgust with Sandor and then her other words clicked. She thought Sandor worked for her fathers company. She was willing to work past her revulsion of him because she thought he had money, all because he worked for Eddard Stark. She was saved from making a huge spectacle of herself when the bartender slid her tab across to her. Sansa took the moment to sign the receipt and collect herself.

"He and my father are very close." she finally said, handing the bartender the slip. "It was nice meeting you, Tessa."

"Oh, and you too, Sansa!" Sansa looked past her as she pulled her coat on and found Sansa watching her intently. She gave him a smile although she felt her eyes stinging. He didn't return it. Once she reached her car, she leaned against the drivers door and pressed her forehead onto the cold metal just above the window. What was going on with her? Pushing herself off the car, she yanked her door open to get in.

"Hey, wait up." She froze with one leg inside the car before slowly turning to watch Sandor pull to a stop a few steps away. She narrowed her eyes at him, feeling angry and a little bitter and not liking it a single bit.

"Yeah?" she held her position, letting him know she was still ready to leave.

"I wanted to make sure Tessa didn't say something to upset you." When Sansa raised a brow in question he added, "You didn't look very happy when she was talking to you." She paused for a minute, trying to decide what to tell him and what not to tell him.

"Well, your girlfriend is definitely not shy about saying what she thinks." His face tensed and his eyes narrowed.

"She's not my girlfriend." he growled.

"Oh, no?" Sansa didn't even try to not sound bitter. "She looked like your girlfriend when you were grabbing her butt." That made him laugh. Full out laugh, head thrown back and everything. Sansa felt herself heat even more with annoyance. Crossing her arms, she stood all the way up and glared at him until he finally finished.

"Are you done now?"

"Yeah." he chuckled again. "Grabbing someone's arse doesn't make them your girlfriend, little bird." Taking a few steps forward, he crowded her against her car. Sansa looked up at him, watching him with wary eyes. Bracing both hands on the hood of her car, he leaned down so he was eye level with her. "If I recall, the last time I seen you at a bar there was some drunk fuck with his hands all over your little body. Didn't make him your beau though, did it?" he cocked his head to the side, his eyes dipping to roam over her body, making it hard to take a proper breath.

"And once you passed out, it was me with my hands on you." he looked back up at her, leaning even closer until their lips were just a breath apart. Sansa froze, too scared to move, not wanting to pull away. She felt like a trapped animal and she liked it. "My arms wrapped around you as I took you to bed." he whispered, his breathing warming her cold lips. She closed her eyes and tilted her chin up slightly and waited for his mouth. After what felt like forever she thought she felt him laugh silently and then the heat of his body was gone. Daze and a little confused, Sansa opened her eyes as he dropped his arms from her car and took a step back.

"And I'm damn sure not your boyfriend." he shoved his hands in his jeans pockets.

"What are you doing?" Sansa asked a little out of breath as she wrapped her arms around herself.

"Proving a point, little bird." he shrugged. "Touching someone, even fucking someone, doesn't mean they're anything to you."

"But..." Sansa shook her head to clear it. "But, she's disgusted by you." He flinched briefly before his face hardened, all the rage and anger coming to the surface of his wild eyes.

"Most women are." he growled. "Doesn't mean they wont fuck me, though. The air of danger and all that shit." Sansa felt a stab of pain in her chest at the thought of him having sex with Tessa.

"She's only with you because she thinks you're a partner at Stark. She thinks you have money. She said that you're awful and she, she actually trembled when she thought about your face." Sansa didn't know why she was still talking. But she wanted Sandor to know what Tessa really thought of him. That she was a horrible person that was just using him.

"I never told her what I did for your father. I'm not a liar." he snapped.

"I know." she whispered, taking a small step towards him.

"And I could give a fuck less what she thinks of my face. I wont even make her look at it when she's in my bed."

"You mean," Sansa frowned and shook her head. "You'll still have...sex with her when she wont even look you in the face? The things she thinks of you aren't true."

"As far as I'm concerned, her misconceptions of me are fair play since she's pretending she wants me for me. And like I said before, most women wont look at me but a man has needs."

"I look at you." she said and blushed a little. He was silent for a long time, just watching her with a shuttered expression.

"Aye, little bird. That you do." with a twisted grin he took a step towards her and leaned down. "Those needs are fucking, though. You want me to fuck you, Ms. Stark?" When she gasped and her head snapped back Sandor stood straight and gave a humorless laugh.

"That's what I thought. So don't judge me on my choice of bed partner, girl." He turned and started back into the pub.

"I wasn't judging you." she called out but he didn't stop walking. "And I never said no." He came to an abrupt halt before spinning around, his eyes blazing with anger before he stormed back to where she stood.

"What did you just say?" he growled. Sansa wanted to back away from his anger, but she held her ground and met his eyes.

"I said I never said no. You didn't give me a chance to answer."

"You're a damn stupid girl, you know that?" he laughed at her mockingly, his eyes still hard and angry. "You tease a dog and he might just bite. And I can promise you, little bird, this is a bite you don't want." With that, he turned and left her floundering for something to say. She never got herself back together before he was gone.

Feeling like she'd been slapped, Sansa drove home with tears in her eyes. When she got into the condo, she went upstairs and changed into a pair of yoga pants and a loose t shirt before going back downstairs and curling onto the sofa with a glass of wine. She was confused, her emotions in a riot.

Did she have feelings for Sandor? With a deep sigh, she admitted to herself that she did. And probably had for a long time. Who else made her feel as safe as he did? As protected and...important? Sure, her family, but that was a different feeling. With Sandor she didn't feel familial. She felt anxious and hot and...needy. When he gave her that look, the look that made her feel as if he was seeing right inside of her, it made her feel almost powerful.

But did it matter how she felt? He more often then not was avoiding her like she was diseased and when they were around each other he was surly and grumpy, always scowling and snapping. He'd made it abundantly clear that he thought she was stupid. And obviously she wasn't his physical type if Tessa was any guideline for the type of women he went for. And he always called her girl. Did he think of her as a child? He was close to 15 years older then her. But, then again, there were times when he seemed barely able to contain himself around her. Like the night at the club. They way he'd touched her, the way he'd looked at her. Sansa shivered and curled her hand into a fist when she thought about how he'd sucked her finger into his mouth. Or when he'd listened to her play the piano. His expression that day had confused her. It was almost...tender.

And then there was the fact that he'd done so much to protect her when she was with Joffrey. She could still remember how panicked he'd looked before he left her in Joffrey's room that last night before everything happened. And he'd risked everything to come in and save her. Something he did again the night of the formal. He'd so willingly sacrificed his body to protect hers. Was that because he actually cared, or was it just a sense of duty, of him just doing his job?

More then likely that was it. He seen her as nothing more then a dumb kid that he felt obligated to protect. But somehow, for some reason, she didn't quite believe that. Wishful thinking or not, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more between them. Surely she couldn't feel this chemistry, this pull to him, and he not feel a thing. She was so lost in thought that she nearly screamed when a hand touched her shoulder.

"Shit, San." Arya jumped back. "What the hell?" Sansa, having spun around on the sofa cushions, clutched a hand to her racing heart.

"You scared me, Arya."

"Obviously." Arya grinned, then frowned. "What are you doing down her in the dark?"

"Just...thinking." Sansa shrugged and settled back against the arm of the sofa, watching Arya round the other side and sit down.

"Was everything okay?" she asked. "You seemed...odd at the pub."

"I don't know." Sansa felt her bottom lip tremble slightly, unable to lie to her sister at the moment.

"What is it?" Arya immediately went on alert. "Did someone say something to you?" her eyes narrowed. "Was it Clegane? I noticed you went all tense and shit when he showed up."

"Oh, Arya." Sansa put her forehead into her hands. "I'm so confused."

"About what?" Arya scooted a little closer. "Did he do something? I seen him follow you out. I'll kill that bastard if he so much as touched you."

"No, Gods no." Sansa shook her head. "He would never do something like that."

"I wouldn't be so sure. I've seen the way he looks at you. Like he'd want nothing more then to devour you." Arya sounded disgusted at the prospect but Sansa felt her heart flutter.

"Arya, you're wrong about him." Sansa said softly. "When I was with Joffrey he was the only person that helped me. He's harsh and crude, yes, but he protected me and ended up being the one who saved me." Arya went completely still, watching Sansa with her sharp grey eyes.

"What are you saying?" she asked cautiously.

"I'm saying he's not the monster you've made him out to be. Arya, there's something more to him then his scars and harsh attitude."

"You..." Arya shook her head slowly. "You like him." It wasn't a question, but Sansa nodded her head anyway.

"I know it's silly and maybe wrong, but I cant help it." Sansa sniffed, wiped at a tear that slipped out of her eye. "No one has ever made me feel the way he makes me feel." Sansa waited, expecting her sister to start getting angry or laughing at her. When she said and did nothing, Sansa raised her eyes to her face and found her smiling.

"What?" Sansa asked cautiously.

"Nothing." Arya smile widened. "It's just, I mean, it's the Hound. A scarred old dog without a fucking penny to his name."

"Watch your mouth, Arya." Sansa scolded. "And don't call him that."

"Don't you get it, San?" Arya did laugh lightly then. "He's nothing of what's expected of you. He's so damn far from the guys you normally go for."

"I know that." Sansa snapped. "But look what the other guys I've gone for have been like. Sure, they're pretty and wealthy, but Loras turned out to be gay, and Joffrey turned out to be a sadistic little..." She trailed off, not knowing what to call him.

"Cunt?" Arya offered and Sansa actually laughed a little. Sandor called him that all the time.

"Yeah." she agreed. Sansa fidgeted with her wine glass, waiting for Arya to speak.

"I get it." Arya finally said. "And I like it."

"Really?" Sansa felt her eyes widen and knew she looked as shocked as she felt.

"Yeah." Arya laughed. "Sansa, you've always been and done what everyone has expected. And what has that done for you? It's made you miserable. I'm not going to go as far as to say I like Clegane or anything, but maybe it's the right thing. It's high time you told everyone else to fuck off and do what you want." she shrugged. "And if that's Sandor Clegane, more power to you, sis. I wouldn't have the balls myself." Sansa sighed in exasperation even as she laughed. Her sister was incorrigible.

"I don't want anyone else to know about this." Sansa said after a while. "I'm still not sure what exactly I want and I have no clue what he wants or how he feels."

"I wont tell anyone, but, Sansa, hon, come on." she laughed. "The dude wants you. I think he's just too scared to admit it." Sansa shook her head, looking off to the side.

"I don't know." she whispered. "Sandor doesn't strike me as the type of guy to be scared of anything."

"I think you're wrong there." Arya said gently. "I'd imagine a guy like him, with his scars and his temperament, hasn't had much experience with anything pretty and soft, or anything that has to do with emotional bullshit. I bet that scares the hell out of him."

Sansa went to bed shortly after her talk with Arya, feeling much better. Still confused and unsure, but better. It helped that her and Arya seemed to be making headway in their relationship. It felt good and Sansa realized she missed that sort of lean on me relationship with Arya. Something they hadn't had in a very long time. And maybe Arya was right. Maybe Sandor's habit of pushing her away was a reaction out of fear instead of lack of interest.

Well, that was just something Sansa needed to figure out. And she thought she knew exactly how to go about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's only one more chapter to go to finish up the sequel, then it's on to the prequel!!


	7. Chapter 7

Sandor was in a foul mood at work the next day. So much so that Ned even commented on his scowl. Determined to get himself under better control, he made an effort to soften his face, at least to his normal harshness.

He blamed one Sansa Stark for his current shitty mood. Actually, she tended to be at the root of any emotional mood shift he seemed to have lately. He hadn't expected her to be at the bar last night and had actually felt like a prick having Tessa around her, although he had no idea why. His dates distaste for his face seemed harder to swallow with Sansa there, watching him unblinking. And then she'd made those asinine comments about sex. He wasn't really sure if she actually meant that she wanted to, or if she was just trying for bravado, but either way he'd lost total interest in Tessa and her overly fake...everything. So he'd gone home alone with a split lip from where Tessa had decked him a good one after he'd told her he was just a body guard.

Or maybe it was him calling her a gold digging whore. Hell if he knew.

So now he was at work with a slightly swollen bottom lip and his blood still up from Sansa's maybe sexual teasing and his lack of outlet in Tessa. They'd gotten back to the house and after Ned headed down to the kitchen to help Catelyn prepare dinner, Sandor slumped in the chair in his office and rubbed his temples, trying to ease the tension in his head. A knock at the door didn't help any.

"Fuck off." he growled. The other guards he shared the office with wouldn't knock and neither would Ned and if it wasn't either of them, Sandor really didn't want to deal with anyone. To his great annoyance, the door pushed open anyways. Lifting his head, he groaned internally and bridged his fingers at his chin, glaring at her.

"What do you want?" he snapped. Sansa seemed nonplused by his bad attitude as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her although she didn't make a move to come any closer.

"I wanted to talk with you." He waited, not saying anything, just staring at her, daring her to continue talking. She shifted nervously for a moment before coming and sitting in the chair in front of his desk without an invitation.

"I feel like I may have offended you last night." she spoke without looking at him, her eyes studying the wood grain of the desk intently. "I didn't mean to step into you and your...and Tessa's business. I was out of place and I'm sorry."

"Fuck your sorry, girl." he grunted. "Besides, what she told you wasn't news to me. I'm well aware of what people are thinking when they look at me and there damn sure isn't any business that's mine and Tessa's. She's just a bloody tart to pass the time." Sansa's eyes snapped up to his and she looked offended on behalf of Tessa, or maybe just her gender in general. All Sandor did was laugh coldly.

"Don't get all offended, little bird. She was using me just as much as I was using her. Never lied to the woman."

"So you," she turned a darker shade of red and fidgeted in her seat. "You still slept with her?"

"It isn't very polite to ask about the women I fuck." he leaned forward to brace his arms on the desk. "You don't see me asking about the men you take to bed." Because if she did, he'd likely rip their nuts off. To his surprise, she started laughing. He scowled even as he realized he really, really liked the sound of her laugh.

"What the fuck is funny?" he grumbled and she sniffed and wiped her eyes, getting her laughter under control.

"If you were to ask it would be a very brief and boring conversation." she sighed, looking a little forlorn as she said, "I don't 'take men to bed', as you said." It took Sandor's mind a second to process what she was saying and when it finally hit him, for some fucked up reason, he went hard in his suit pants.

"You mean..." he scoffed and shook his head. She immediately bristled and lifted her chin with an air of dignity.

"What?" she snapped. "You think my experiences the first time were so titillating that I'd go running around looking for more of it?" she looked offended and a little hurt as she stared at him. "I would have thought you, of all people, would have known better." He did, actually. But, damn, he assumed she'd been with other guys in the year since Joff. She was hot as hell and sweet as they come, and on a few occasions he'd seen just how passionate she could be.

He bet she was dynamite in bed. Buggering hells. That line of thinking wasn't helping his erection.

"Joffrey fucking Baratheon isn't the bar to measure other men by." He growled and Sansa smiled a little.

"I know." she said softly, still holding his gaze. "I just need to find another man that will prove that to me." Heat swamped his mind, turning his vision a little red. She made it sound like she was shopping for a pair of fucking shoes instead of finding someone to bed her. Thinking of her in bed with someone else made his hands shake with rage. It had been hard enough knowing she'd been with Joffrey, but things were different now then they were back then. He couldn't say exactly when they had changed, but he knew they had. Maybe it was when she met his eyes for the first time without blanching in fear or disgust.

"The fucking Tyrell cripple seemed pretty interested." he snapped, his voice harsher then he'd meant it to be. Sansa sighed and lifted her eyes to the cieling before pushing up to stand.

"Willas is a nice boy." she said. "And he may be interested, but it's not in me. Not in who I am or even in my body. He likes the idea of the name I carry, and his interest is held only in the power and money behind it." Sandor disagreed. There wasn't a red-blooded, straight man in this world who wasn't interested in that killer body she had. But he got her point all the same.

"You'd be surprised at how enjoyable sex can be with a limited amount of personal interest."

"I dont doubt it." Her eyes slid down from his face, trailed across his torso before slowly coming back up to meet his gaze again. "But just imagine how much better it is when you do share a connection with the other person." Sandor held himself perfectly still, not willing to move or open his mouth. He couldn't be sure what he would do or say when he was so damn close to loosing what little control he had. She didn't seem to expect him to say anything, though. Instead, she gave him a wide smile before going back to the door.

"I'll see you around, Mr. Clegane." she said before leaving him turned on, a little pissed off, and a whole lot confused.

Damn women.

*****************************

Sansa had gotten all she needed from Sandor to put her doubts behind her. His reaction to her in his office gave her the answers she'd been seeking. Arya had been right. He wanted her, that much was obvious from the decidedly large bulge in his suit pants she'd seen when she stood up. He hadn't even tried to cover it up with his hands.

The problem was, he wasn't going to make a move. And Sansa had a feeling he wouldn't handle her making a very forward move either. So she had to go about it another way. There was one thing she knew he'd never refuse and that was to help her when he thought she was in trouble. So her plan went from there.

Leaving her car at her condo, she took an Uber to a corner store on the outskirts of town. Fighting down her raging nerves and second thoughts, she called him. Never once did she lie. She never said she was in trouble or that she was hurt. She just asked him to come get her and he did without question.

Just sitting behind him on his bike, driving through the city at night, was exhilarating and she couldn't get enough of the feel of his hard body against her or his scent that surrounded her. She was scared that he still might deny her once they got to his place or that she'd been sadly mistaken in her assumption that he wanted her. Her body was trembling with that fear, actually.

When they arrived at his studio, she went to his bay windows that overlooked the town and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to calm her nerves and her shaking body. She could do this. She wanted to do this. More then she'd realized, actually.

She had a feeling that Sandor Clegane had the ability to shatter her heart. Not that she'd tell him that. She wasn't here to offer him her heart, or lay out her soul. She was her for passion and the sexual oblivion that she only wanted with this man. The rest she'd deal with later. Right now, tonight, she'd give into what her body wanted from him.

So she took a deep breath and steeled her nerves before speaking.

"You have a great view."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! At least for the prequel!! 
> 
> I'm getting started on the sequel but you might give a girl a few days :)


End file.
